you before; you are young, you do not understand
the world."

"That is true," Felicia would reply with adorable meekness, as she
lifted questioning eyes to mine. Then I was to sit down beside her and
taking both her hands in mine:

"Dear," I was to continue, "when a young girl has received as much
attention as you have, it is natural for her to imagine that after she
is married men can go on courting her as they did before. But this is
not true. A man's devotion, especially the devotion of an insolent,
useless pup of a young ass like Saunders" (it slipped out in spite of
ourselves, and we put the blue pencil through it, supplying "a fellow
like Saunders") "has a very different meaning when given to a young
girl than to a young married woman. You do not dream this, I know. I
have every confidence in you, dear, and I am speaking now purely to
save you from an unpleasant scene as well as to stop malicious
tongues."

At this Felicia would keep silent, contemplating the abyss pointed out
to her. Indeed, my words have so impressed her that my heart smites
me, but better she should learn from me than in some other way.

"May a married woman have no friends then?" she cries at last.

"All she likes of _friends_," I am to say with a touch of severity.
"But she should take care not to make herself conspicuous with any one
man. For you know, Felicia, you have been making yourself conspicuous.
At the Jarvis week-end party you talked to no one else; last night you
sat an hour in a secluded corner with him. You walk with him, and he
sends you violets. I have no feeling about Saunders, of course. I
merely see these things as the world sees them. Only I know how
innocent you are, that you are accepting these attentions as simply as
you would have before you were married, but, O Felicia, the world does
not know that! Already they are putting you down as a married flirt;
already they are wondering what I am about to let things go on so, and
as for Saunders, his attentions to you are an insult."

"You should have told me before," Felicia murmurs. "You should have
told me!"

Just then the maid would of course bring a card. Felicia would glance
at it, her brows arch themselves with displeasure.

"Tell Mr. Saunders I am not at home," she would say haughtily.

You see, according to that other self, it was all as easy as rolling
off a log. The trouble with him is that he has no practical knowledge
of the world; but at the moment of