necessity for human happiness; duty being her discovery as sufficient
substitute.

But he heard in her childish babble the minor murmur of an undercurrent
quickening for the first time; and he listened patiently and answered
gravely, touched by her irremediable loneliness.

For Nina must remain but a substitute at best; what was wanting must
remain wanting; and race and blood must interpret for itself the subtler
and unasked questions of an innocence slowly awaking to a wisdom which
makes us all less wise.

So when she said that she was tired of gaiety, that she would like to
study, he said that he would take up anything she chose with her. And
when she spoke vaguely of a life devoted to good works--of the wiser
charity, of being morally equipped to aid those who required material
aid, he was very serious, but ventured to suggest that she dance her
first season through as a sort of flesh-mortifying penance preliminary
to her spiritual novitiate.

"Yes," she admitted thoughtfully; "you are right. Nina would feel
dreadfully if I did not go on--or if she imagined I cared so little for
it all. But one season is enough to waste. Don't you think so?"

"Quite enough," he assured her.

"--And--why should I ever marry?" she demanded, lifting her clear, sweet
eyes to his.

"Why indeed?" he repeated with conviction. "I can see no reason."