than life.

"It is six years," Mrs. Fenton answered. "Caldwell was born the March
after she went, and he will be six in three weeks. Time goes fast. We
are getting to be old people."

Fenton stared at his plate absently, his thoughts busy with the past.

"Has Grant Herman been married six years?" he asked, after a moment.

"Grant Herman? Yes; he was married just before she sailed; but what of
it?"

Fenton laid down the fork with which he had been poking the bits of
fish about on his plate. He folded his arms on the edge of the table,
and regarded his wife.

"It is astonishing, Edith," he observed, "how well one may know a woman
and yet be mistaken in her. For six years I have supposed you to be
religiously avoiding any allusion to Helen's love for Grant Herman, and
it seems you never knew it at all."

It was Mrs. Fenton's turn to look up in surprise.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Her husband laughed lightly, yet not very joyously.

"Nothing, if you will. Nobody ever told me they were in love with each
other, but I am as sure that Helen made Herman marry Ninitta as if I