fitted for it. It would mark her deeply. Many young women of twenty-six in
these days could face such an ordeal, I suppose. I have observed a sort of
imitative hardness about the products of the higher education of women today
which would carry them through anything, perhaps.

I am not prepared to say it is a bad thing in the conditions of feminine life
prevailing at present. Mabel, however, is not like that. She is as unlike that
as she is unlike the simpering misses that used to surround me as a child. She
has plenty of brains; she is full of character; her mind and her tastes are
cultivated; but it is all mixed up'-Mr. Cupples waved his hands in a vague
gesture--'with ideals of refinement and reservation and womanly mystery. I
fear she is not a child of the age. You never knew my wife, Trent. Mabel is my
wife's child.'

The younger man bowed his head. They paced the length of the lawn before he
asked gently, 'Why did she marry him?'

'I don't know,' said Mr. Cupples briefly.

'Admired him, I suppose,' suggested Trent.

Mr. Cupples shrugged his shoulders. 'I have been told that a woman will
usually be more or less attracted by the most successful man in her circle. Of
course we cannot realize how a wilful, dominating personality like his would
influence a girl whose affections were not bestowed elsewhere; especially if
he laid himself out to win her. It is probably an overwhelming thing to be
courted by a man whose name is known all over the world. She had heard of him,
of course, as a financial great power, and she had no idea--she had lived
mostly among people of artistic or literary propensities--how much soulless
inhumanity that might involve. For all I know, she has no adequate idea of it