of ourselves for our children's
sake. I can't see that we're learning to be anything but--you,
to be an efficient machine for making money, I to think of how
to entertain as though we had more money than we really have.
I don't seem really to know you or live with you any more
than if we were two guests stopping at the same hotel. If
socialists are trying to fix things better, why shouldn't we
have time--both of us--to read their books; and you could help
me know what they mean?'

Paul laughed again, a scornful, hateful laugh, which brought
the color up to Lydia's pale face like a blow. 'I gather,
then, Lydia, that what you're asking me to do is to neglect my
business in order to read socialistic literature with you?'

His wife's rare resentment rose. She spoke with dignity: 'I
begged you to be serious, Paul, and to try to understand what
I mean, although I'm so fumbling, and say it so badly. As for
its being impossible to change things, I've heard you say a
great many times that there are no conditions that can't be
changed if people would really try--'

'Good heavens! I said that of _business_ conditions!' shouted
Paul, outraged at being so misquoted.

'Well, if it's true of them--No; I feel that things are the
way they are because we don't really care enough to have them
some other way. If you really cared as much about sharing a
part of your life with me--really sharing--as you do about
getting the Washburn contract--'

Her indignant and angry tone, so entirely unusual, moved Paul,
more than her words, to shocked protest. He looked deeply
wounded, and his accent was that of a man righteously
aggrieved. 'Lydia, I lay most of this absurd outbreak to your
nervous condition, and so I can't blame you for it. But I
can't help pointing out to you that it is entirely uncalled
for. There are few women who have a husband as absolutely
devoted as yours. You grumble about my not sharing my life
with you--why, I _give_ it to you entire!' His astonished
bitterness grew as he voiced it. 'What am I working so hard
for if not to provide for you and our child--our children!
Good Heavens! What more _can_ I do for you than to keep my
nose on the grindstone every minute. There are limits to even
a husband's time and endurance and capacity for work.'

Hence it will be seen th