the wisdom that the years bring and take away.
"Life is so uncertain--fine impulses--even love--yes, love most of
all--is so uncertain--"

"Of course you feel that way," responded the girl, sympathetic but
incredulous. "How could you help it?"

After this what could Corinna answer? She knew Stephen, she told
herself, and she knew that she could trust him. She believed that lie
was capable of generous impulses; but she doubted if an impulse, however
generous, could sweep away the inherited sentiments which encrusted his
outlook on life. In spite of his youth, he was in reality so old. He was
as old as that indestructible entity, the spirit of race--as that
impalpable strain which had existed in every Culpeper, and in all the
Culpepers together, from the beginning. It was not, she realized
plainly, such an anachronism as a survival of the aristocratic
tradition. Deeper than this, it had its roots not in belief but in
instinct--in the bone and fibre of Stephen's character. It was a part of
that motive power which impelled him in the direction of the beaten
road, of the established custom, of things as they have always been in
the past.

Her kind heart was troubled; yet before the happiness in the girl's face
what could she say except that she hoped Stephen was as fine as Patty
believed him to be? "You may be right. I hope so with all my heart; but,
oh, my dear, try not to care too much. It never does any good to care
too much." She stooped and kissed the girl's cheek. "There, my car is at
the door, and I must hurry back to the shop. I'll do anything in the
world that I can for you, Patty, anything in the world."

As the car rolled through the gate and down the wide drive to the
Washington monument, Patty stood gazing after it, with a burning
moisture in her eyes and a lump in her throat. Terror had seized her in
an instant, terror of unhappiness, of missing the one thing in life on
which she had passionately set her heart. What had Mrs. Page meant by
her questions? Had she intended them as a warning? And why should she
have thought it necessary to warn her against caring too much for
Stephen?

The girl had started to enter the house when, remembering suddenly that
Gershom was still there, she turned hurriedly away from the door, and
walked back down the brick pavement to the fountain beyond the library.
The squirrels still scampered over the walk; the thirsty sparrows were
still drinking; the few loungers on the ben