eless labor to
grasp the unseen, his rare and exalted joys, his strange valuation of
life,--in short the blind, unconscious purpose of Art in the terrestrial
scheme of things. Nor perhaps did John Bragdon at twenty-eight. The
crust of _bourgeois_ standards is so thick in American life that it
takes a rare and powerful nature to break through, and Bragdon had not
yet begun to knock his way.... Milly's idea of Art, like most women's,
was Decoration and Excitement. When successful, it made money and noise
in the world, and brought social rewards, naturally. She hadn't married
Jack for that, or for any reason except because of his own adorable
personality, as she told him frequently. But now that she was married
she meant to make the most of the Gift. Jack was to be a Creator, and
she aspired to be embodied somehow in the creation and share its
profits.

At last they were launched: their marriage was really just
beginning.... She snuggled closer to her husband under the common
rug and murmured in his sleepy ear,--

"Isn't it great, Jack?"

"What?" (Drowsily.)

"Europe! Everything!... That we're really here on the steamer!"

"Um!"

"And you're going to be a great painter--"

"Perhaps." (Dubiously.)

"What shall you do first?"

"Don't know--find a cab."

"Silly!... Don't make fun of me.... Kiss me!... Do you mind, dear, going
down into the cabin and looking for my hot-water bottle," etc.

Bragdon recovered first from the Atlantic languor, and in the course of
his rambles about the ship discovered an acquaintance in the second
cabin,--a young instructor in architecture at a technical school, who
with his wife and small child were also on their way to Paris for the
winter. He brought Milly to see the Reddons where they were established
behind a ventilator on the rear deck. Milly thought they seemed forlorn
and pitied them. Mrs. Reddon was a little pale New Englander, apparently
as fragile as a china cup, and in her arms was a mussy and peevish
child. She confided to Milly that she expected another child, and Milly,
whose one ever present terror was the fear of becoming inconveniently a
mother, was quite horrified.

"How can they do it!" she exclaimed to Jack, when they had returned to
their more spacious quarters. "Go over second-class like that--it's so
dirty and smelly and such common people all around one."

"I suppose Reddon can't afford anything better."

"Then I should stay at home until I could. With a