establish his family, the years of his mother's slow crucifixion,
his own long struggle --all floated before him in a fog of
reverie. Years of deprivation, of bending toil and then,
suddenly, this had come--this miracle symbolized by this piece of
paper. Martin moistened his lips. Mentally, he realized all the
dramatic significance of what had happened, but it gave him none
of the elation he had expected.

This bewildered and angered him. Sixteen thousand dollars and
with it no thrill. What was lacking? As he pondered, puzzled and
disappointed, it came to him that he needed something by which to
measure his wealth, someone whose appreciation of it would make
it real to him, give him a genuine sense of its possession. What
if he were to take Robinson's advice: fix up a bit and--marry?

Nellie had often urged the advantages of this, but he had never
had much to do with women; they did not belong in his world and
he had not missed them; he had never before felt a need of
marriage. Upon the few occasions when, driven by his sister's
persistence, he had vaguely considered it, he had shrunk away
quickly from the thought of the unavoidable changes which would
be ushered in by such a step. This shack, itself--no one whom he
would want would, in this day, consent to live in it, and, if he
should marry, his wife must be a superior woman, good looking,
and with the push and energy of his mother. He thought of all she
had meant to his father; and there was Nellie, not to be spoken
of in the same breath, yet making Bert Mall a good wife. What a
cook she was! Memories of her hot, fluffy biscuits, baked
chicken, apple pies and delicious coffee, carried trailing aromas
that set his nostrils twitching. It would be pleasant to have