as Miss
Chris. "We live and let live--only our tastes are different. Why, the
chief proof of his affection for me is that he always describes to me
the object of his admiration--which means that his eyes stray, but his
heart does not, and the heart's the chief thing, after all."

"I'm glad you aren't jealous," said Miss Chris. "I used to think you
were--as a child."

"Oh, I was--as a child," replied Eugenia. Her kindly face clouded. It
was borne in upon her with a twinge of conscience that the absence of
jealousy which had become the safeguard of Dudley's peace proved her own
lack of passion. What a hell some women--good women--might have made of
Dudley's life--that genial life that flowed as smoothly as a song. In
the flights and pauses of his temperament what discord might have
shocked the decent measure of their marriage? Persistent passion would
have bored him; exacting love would have soured the charm of his radiant
egotism. It was because she was not in love with him, that her love had
wisely meted out to him only so much or so little of herself as he
desired--and with a sudden arraignment of Fate she admitted that because
she had failed in the first requirement of the marriage sacrament, she
had made that sacrament other than a mockery. Out of her own
unfulfilment Dudley's happiness was fulfilled.

"Yes, Dudley suits me," she said absently, "and, what's the main thing,
I suit Dudley."

"Well, well, I'm glad of it," returned Miss Chris, but in a moment
Eugenia was kneeling beside her, her hand upon the open Bible.

"Dear Aunt Chris, you haven't told me all," she said.

"All?" Miss Chris wavered. "You mean about Bernard?"

"I mean about the governor." She closed the. Bible and pushed it from
her. "Do you think he is quite, quite happy?"

Miss Chris laughed in protest.

"Do I believe him to be pining of hopeless love? No, I don't," she
retorted.

"Oh, not that!" exclaimed Eugenia impatiently. She appeared vaguely to
resent Miss Chris's assurance. She was feminine enough to experience an
irrational jealousy at the idea of a vacancy which she had done her best
to create. It destroyed an example of the permanence of love.

"I don't suppose anybody could be happy on politics," observed Miss
Chris. "It doesn't seem natural." And she slowly added: "I wish some
good woman would marry him."

"I don't!" said Eugenia sharply. She rose with a spring from the rug,
and left Miss Chris to her reflections and her ra