so many in a trivial world, but she was right. She might suffer, she
might die, but, after all, there are many things worse than that. Man is
born in a day, and he dies in a day, and the thing is easily over; but to
have a sick heart for three-fourths of one's lifetime is simply to have
death renewed every morning; and life at that price is not worth living.
In this sensitive age we are desperately anxious to save life, as if it
was the really great thing in the world; but in the good, strong times of
the earth--and in these times, indeed, when necessity knows its hour--men
held their lives as lightly as a bird upon the housetop which any chance
stone might drop.

It is possible that at this moment the two women understood each other
better than they had ever done, and respected each other more. Lali,
recovering herself, spoke a few soft words of congratulation, and then
appeared to busy herself in putting little touches to Marion's dress,
that soft persuasion of fingers which does so much to coax mere cloth
into a sort of living harmony with the body.

They had no more words of confidence, but in the porch of the church,
Marion, as she passed Lali, caught the slender fingers in her own and
pressed them tenderly. Marion was giving comfort, and yet if she had
been asked why she could not have told. She did not try to define it
further than to say to herself that she herself was having almost too
much happiness. The village was en fete, and peasants lined the street
leading to the church, ready with their hearty God-bless-you's. Lali sat
between her husband and Mrs. Armour, apparently impassive until there
came the question: "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"
and General Armour's voice came clear and strong: "I do." Then a soft
little cry broke from her, and she shivered slightly. Mrs. Armour did
not notice, but Frank and Mrs. Lambert heard and saw, and both were