ortant, since marriages take place every day,
and are so common and ordinarily so commonplace, when the first flutter
is over. Even Morgan said, in his wife's presence, that he thought there
had been weddings enough; at least he would interdict those that upset
things like this one. For one thing, it brought about the house-keeping
union of Mrs. Fletcher and Miss Forsythe in the tatter's cottage--a
sort of closing up of the ranks that happens on the field during a fatal
engagement. As we go on, it becomes more and more difficult to fill up
the gaps.

We were very unwilling to feel that Margaret had gone out of our life.
"But you cannot," Morgan used to say, "be friends with the rich, and
that is what makes the position of the very rich so pitiful, for the
rich get so tired of each other."

"But Margaret," my wife urged, "will never be of that sort: money will
not change either her habits or her affections."

"Perhaps. You can never trust to inherited poverty. I have no doubt that
she will resist the world, if anybody can, but my advice is that if you
want to keep along with Margaret, you'd better urge your husband to make
money. Experience seems to teach that while they cannot come to us, we
may sometimes go to them."

My wife and Mrs. Fletcher were both indignant at this banter, and
accused Morgan of want of faith, and even lack of affection for
Margaret; in short, of worldly-mindedness himself.

"Perhaps I am rather shop-worn," he confessed. "It's not distrust of
Margaret's intentions, but knowledge of the strength of the current on
which she has embarked. Henderson will not stop in his career short of
some overwhelming disaster or of death."

"I thought you liked him? At any rate, Margaret will make a good use of
his money."

"It isn't a question, my dear Mrs. Fairchild, of the use of money, but
of the use money makes of you. Yes, I do like Henderson, but I can't
give up my philosophy of life for the sake of one good fellow."

"Philosophy of fudge!" exclaimed my wife. And there really was no answer
to this.

After six weeks had passed, my wife paid a visit to Margaret. Nothing
could exceed the affectionate cordiality of her welcome. Margaret was
overjoyed to see her, to show the house, to have her know her husband
better, to take her into her new life. She was hardly yet over the naive
surprises of her lovely surroundings. Or if it is too mach to say that
her surprise had lasted six weeks--for it is marvel