conscious of the inadequacy of her words. "You were everything I
wanted."

"Except for my hats," he said in a brief flash of his saving humor.
"It would be better for me, perhaps, if I could hurt you. That
ability comes dangerously close to a constant of love. You mustn't
think I am complaining. I haven't the slightest reason in the face
of your devastating honesty. I didn't distress you and I had the
necessary minimum--the fifty thousand." His manner was so even, so
devoid of sting, that she could smile at the expression of her
material ambitions. "I realize exactly your feeling for myself, but
what puzzles me is your attitude toward the children."

"I don't understand it either," she admitted, "except that I am
quite afraid of them. They are so different from all my own
childhood; often they are too much for me. Then I dread the time
when they will discover how stupid and uneducated I am at bottom.
I'm sure you already ask questions before them to amuse yourself at
my doubt. What shall I do, Arnaud, when they are really at school
and bring home their books?"

"Retreat behind your dignity as a parent," he advised. "They are
certain to display their knowledge and ask you to bound things or
name the capital of Louisiana." She cried, "Oh, but I know that,
it's New Orleans!" She saw at once, from his entertained expression,
that she was wrong again, and became conscious of a faint flush of
annoyance. "It will be even worse," she continued, "when Vigne looks
to me for advice; I mean when she is older and has lovers."

"She won't seriously; they never do. She'll tell you when it's all