good man. In all ways I do him perfect justice. He is everything that
is kind and generous--only, alas, he is not the lover of my dreams. My
children are nice handsome boys, but they are the every day children
of every day life. I dreamed another and a different life in which my
children were oh, so different, and beside which the life I try to
lead with all the strength I have is no more like the life I dreamed
than my boys are like my dream children. If you think it has not taken
courage to play the part I have played, I am sorry for your lack of
insight."

And she got up, and walked away.

It was as well, for, as the literature teacher told the doctor
afterward, it was one notch above her experience, and she absolutely
could have found no word to say. When the Wife came back to the
hammock, ten minutes later, the cloud was gone from her face, and she
never mentioned the subject again. And you may be sure that the
literature teacher never did. She always looked upon the incident as
her worst moment of tactlessness.

* * * * *

"Bully, bully!" exclaimed the Lawyer, "Take off your laurels, Critic,
and crown the Doctor!"

"For that little tale," shouted the Critic. "Never! That has not a bit
of literary merit. It has not one rounded period."

"The Lawyer is a realist," said the Sculptor. "Of course that appeals
to him."