and old-fashioned. George understands--that's all I care about. Do
you see?"

"I see," she answered slowly. But when he spoke again the sunshine
came back to her heart; he had planned this, he had planned that,
he had wired Elinor, the power boat was ready. She was a woman,
after all, and young, and the bright hours of shopping, of being
admired and envied, and, above all, of being so newly loved and
protected, were opening before her. What woman in the world had
more than she, what woman indeed, she asked herself, as he turned
toward her his keen, smiling look of solicitude and devotion, had
one-tenth as much?

Later on, in that same day, there was another tiny shadow.
Rachael, however, had foreseen this moment, and met it bravely.

"How's your mother, Greg?" she asked suddenly.

"Fine," he answered, and with a swift smile for her he added, "and
furious!"

"No--is she really furious?" Rachael asked, paling.

"Now, my dearest heart," Warren Gregory said with an air of
authority that she found strangely thrilling and sweet, "from this
moment on make up your mind that what my good mother does and says
is absolutely unimportant to you and me! She has lived her life,
she is old, and sick, and unreasonable, and whatever we did
wouldn't please her, and whatever anyone does, doesn't satisfy her
anyway! In forty years--in less than that, as far as I'm