He was a man of fine moral and intellectual qualities. His wealth
gave him leisure, and his tastes, feelings and habits of thought
drew him into the society of some of the best men in the city where
he lived--best in the true meaning of that word. In all enlightened
social reform movements you would be sure of finding Mr. Howard
Dinneford. He was an active and efficient member in many boards of
public charity, and highly esteemed in them all for his enlightened
philanthropy and sound judgment. Everywhere but at home he was
strong and influential; there he was weak, submissive and of little
account. He had long ago accepted the situation, making a virtue of
necessity. A different man--one of stronger will and a more
imperious spirit--would have held his own, even though it wrought
bitterness and sorrow. But Mr. Dinneford's aversion to strife, and
gentleness toward every one, held him away from conflict, and so his
home was at least tranquil.

Mrs. Dinneford had her own way, and so long as her husband made no
strong opposition to that way all was peaceful.

For Edith, their only child, who was more like her father than her
mother, Mr. Dinneford had the tenderest regard. The well-springs of
love, choked up so soon after his marriage, were opened freely
toward his daughter, and he lived in her a new, sweet and satisfying
life. The mother was often jealous of her husband's demonstrative
tenderness for Edith. A yearning instinct of womanhood, long
repressed by worldliness and a mean social ambition, made her crave
at times the love she had cast away, and then her cup of life was
very bitter. But fear of Mr. Dinneford's influence over Edith was
stronger than any jealousy of his love. She had high views for her