"Well, perhaps not quite twenty, but--"

Henry Houghton groaned. "I'll tell Bradley my opinion of him as a
coach."

"My dear, Mr. Bradley couldn't have prevented it.... Yes; I remember her
perfectly. She came to tea with Mrs. Newbolt several times. Rather a
temperamental person, I thought."

"'Temperamental'? May the Lord have mercy on him!" he said. "Yes, it
comes back to me. Dark eyes? Looked like one of Rossetti's women?"

"Yes. Handsome, but a little stupid. She's proved _that_ by marrying
Maurice! Oh, what a fool!" Then she tried to console him: "But one of
the happiest marriages I ever knew, was between a man of thirty and a
much older woman."

"But not between a boy of nineteen and a much older woman! The trouble
is not her age but his youth. Why didn't she adopt him?... I bet the
aunt's cussing, too."

"Probably. Well, we've got to think what to do," Mary Houghton said.

"Do? What do you mean? Get a divorce for him?"

"He's just married; he doesn't want a divorce yet," she said, simply;
and her husband laughed, in spite of his consternation.

"Oh, lord, I wish I was asleep! I've always been afraid he'd go
high-diddle-diddling off with some shady girl;--but I swear, that would