have been better than marrying his grandmother! Mary, what I can't
understand, is the woman. He's a child, almost; and vanity at having a
woman of forty fall in love with him explains him. And, besides, Maurice
is no Eurydice; music would lead him into hell, not out of it. It's the
other fool that puzzles me."

His wife sighed; "If her mind keeps young, it won't matter so much about
her body."

"My dear," he said, dryly, "human critters are human critters. In ten
years it will be an impossible situation."

But again she contradicted him: "No! Unhappiness is possible; but _not_
inevitable!"

"Dear Goose, may a simple man ask how it is to be avoided?"

"By unselfishness," she said; "no marriage ever went on the rocks where
both 'human critters' were unselfish! But I hope this poor, foolish
woman's mind will keep young. If it doesn't, well, Maurice will just
have to be tactful. If he is, it may not be so _very_ bad," she said,
with determined optimism.

"Kit, when a man has to be 'tactful' with his wife, God help him!--or
a woman with her husband," he added in a sudden tender afterthought.
"We've never been 'tactful' with each other, Mary?" She smiled, and put
her cheek against his shoulder. "'Tactfulness' between a husband and
wife," said Henry Houghton, "is confession that their marriage is a
failure. You may tell 'em so, from me."