Chapter One


The marriage of Albert Bradley and Anne Polk Barrett was as close
as anything comes, in these prosaic days, to a high adventure.
Nancy's Uncle Thomas, a quiet, gentle old Southerner who wore tan
linen suits when he came to New York, which was not often, and
Bert's mother, a tiny Boston woman who had lived in a diminutive
Brookline apartment since her three sons had struck out into the
world for themselves, respectively assured the young persons that
they were taking a grave chance. However different their viewpoint
of life, old Mrs. Bradley and old Mr. Polk could agree heartily in
that.

Of course there was much to commend the union. Nancy was
beautiful, she came of gentlefolk, and she liked to assert that
she was practical, she "had been a workin' woman for yeahs." This
statement had reference to a comfortable and informal position she
held with a private association for the relief of the poor. Nancy
was paid fifteen dollars a week, seven of which she in turn paid
to the pretty young widow, an old family friend only a few years
older than herself, with whom she boarded. Mrs. Terhune was rich,
in a modest way, and frequently refused the money entirely. But
she took it often enough to make the blooming Nancy feel quite
self-supporting, and as Nancy duly reported at the sunshiny office
of the Southern Ladies' Helping Hand every morning, or almost
every morning, the girl had some reason to feel that she had
solved her financial and domestic problem.

Bert was handsome, too, and his mother knew everybody who was any