"How happened the judge to say that?" asked the doctor, trying to
scoff, but not a little pleased. "I'm sure I can't tell you, Mrs.
Graham, only the idea has grown of itself in my mind, as all right
ideas do, and everything that I can see seems to favor it. You may
think that it is too early to decide, but I see plainly that Nan is
not the sort of girl who will be likely to marry. When a man or woman
has that sort of self-dependence and unnatural self-reliance, it shows
itself very early. I believe that it is a mistake for such a woman to
marry. Nan's feeling toward her boy-playmates is exactly the same as
toward the girls she knows. You have only to look at the rest of the
children together to see the difference; and if I make sure by and by,
the law of her nature is that she must live alone and work alone, I
shall help her to keep it instead of break it, by providing something
else than the business of housekeeping and what is called a woman's
natural work, for her activity and capacity to spend itself upon."

"But don't you think that a married life is happiest?" urged the
listener, a good deal shocked at such treason, yet somewhat persuaded
by its truth.

"Yes," said Dr. Leslie, sadly. "Yes indeed, for most of us. We could
say almost everything for that side, you and I; but a rule is
sometimes very cruel for its exceptions; and there is a life now and
then which is persuaded to put itself in irons by the force of custom
and circumstances, and from the lack of bringing reason to bear upon
the solving of the most important question of its existence. Of course
I don't feel sure yet that I am right about Nan, but looking at her
sad inheritance from her mother, and her good inheritances from other
quarters, I cannot help feeling that she might be far more unhappy