Doesn't that seem wicked, Bert? And all that delicious chicken
that we hardly touched--dear me, what fun I could have with
twenty-five dollars! There are so many things I'd like to buy that
I never do; just silly things, you know--nice soaps and powders,
and fancy cheeses and an alligator pear, and the kind of toilet
water you love so--don't you remember you bought it in Boston when
we honeymooned?"

Perhaps a shadow would touch Bert's watching face, and he would
come to put an arm about her and her loosened cloud of hair.

"Poor old girl, it isn't much fun for you! Do you get tired of it,
Nancy?"

"Bert," she said, one night in a mood of gravity and confidence
that he loved, and had learned to watch for, "I never get tired.
And sometimes I feel sure that the most wonderful happiness that
ever is felt in this world comes to two people who love each
other, and who have to make sacrifices for each other! I mean
that. I mean that I don't think riches, or travel, or great gifts
and achievements bring a greater happiness than ours. I think a
king, dying," smiled Nancy, trying not to be too serious, "might
wish that, for a while at least, he had been able to wear shabby
shoes for the woman he loved, and had had years of poking about a
great city with her, and talking and laughing and experimenting
and working over their problem together!"

Bert kissed the thoughtful eyes, but did not speak.

"But just the same," Nancy presently went on, "sometimes I do get-