I can see my father's point of view now, though I am not sure but that I
shall prefer a son-in-law for our daughter who would contemplate
absolute uncertainty in Persia in preference to an assured legal
profession in Oakland, California. It was two years before my father
became at all sympathetic, and that condition was far from enthusiastic.
So it was a great joy to me to have him say, a few months before his
death, "You know, Cornelia, I want you to understand that if I had had
the world to pick from I'd have chosen Carl Parker for your husband.
Your marriage is a constant source of satisfaction to me."

I saw Carl Parker lose his temper once, and once only. It was that first
year that we knew each other. Because there was such a difference
between his age and mine, the girls in my sorority house refused to
believe there could be anything serious about our going together so
much, and took great pains to assure me in private that of course Carl
meant nothing by his attentions,--to which I agreed volubly,--and they
scolded him in private because it would spoil a Freshman to have a
Senior so attentive. We always compared notes later, and were much
amused.

But words were one thing, actions another. Since there could be nothing
serious in our relationship, naturally there was no reason why we should
be left alone. If there was to be a rally or a concert, the Senior
sitting at the head of the dinner-table would ask, "How many are going
to-night with a man?" Hands. "How many of the girls are going together?"
Hands. Then, to me, "Are you going with Carl?" A faint "Yes." "Then
we'll all go along with you." Carl stood it twice--twice he beheld this
cavalcade bear away in our wake; then he gritted his teeth and
announced, "Never again!"