however, he lived an uneventful life with his widowed mother in a
charming old house, surrounded by a walled garden, in Franklin Street.
Like the house, he was always in perfect order; and everything about
him, from his loosely fitting clothes and his immaculate linen to his
inherited conceptions of life, was arranged with such exquisite
precision that it was impossible to improve it in any way. He knew
exactly what he thought, and he knew also his reason, which was usually
a precedent in law or custom, for thinking as he did. His opinions,
which were both active and abundant, were all perfectly legitimate
descendants of tradition, and the phrase "nobody ever heard of such a
thing," was quite as convincing to him as to Mrs. Carr or to Cousin
Jimmy Wrenn.

"Gabriella, aren't you going?" he asked reproachfully as the girl
entered.

"Oh, Arthur, we've had such a dreadful day! Poor Jane has left Charley
for good and has come home, with all the children. We've been busy
dividing them among us, and we're going to turn the dining-room into a
nursery.

"Left Charley? That's bad, isn't it?" asked Arthur doubtfully.

"I feel so sorry for her, Arthur. It must be terrible to have love end
like that."

"But she isn't to blame. Everybody knows that she has forgiven him again
and again."

"Yes, everybody knows it," repeated Gabriella, as if she drew bitter