gloves and her attentions prettily, thought Bert. When he took her
home at six o'clock he was conscious that he had passed an
invisible barrier in their relationship; she knew his mother. They
were of one breed.

But that night, when he went back to the hotel to dine, his mother
drew him aside.

"Not serious, dear--between you and Miss Barrett, I mean?"

Bert laughed in pleasant confusion.

"Well, I--of course I admire her awfully. Everyone does. But I
don't know that I'd have a chance with her." Suddenly and unbidden
there leaped into his heart the glorious thought of possessing
Nancy. Nancy--his wife, making a home and a life for unworthy him!
He flushed deeply. His mother caught the abashed murmur,
"...thirteen hundred a year!"

"Exactly!" she said incisively, almost triumphantly. But her eyes,
closely watching his expression, were anxious. "I don't believe in
having things made too easy for young persons," she added,
smiling. "But that--that really is too hard."

"Yep. That's too hard," Bert agreed.

"It isn't fair to the girl to ask it," added his mother gently.

"That's true," Bert said a little heavily, after a pause. "It
isn't fair--to Nancy."