ow's opera. He did not know, as I did, that
the whole company from whom Penelope might choose a mate were to the
outward eye just such commonplace men whose power of fascination lay in
commonplace deeds and words. The Professor, whose whole life had been
spent pursuing shadows, was naturally of a romantic turn of mind, and
it was even difficult for him to conceive of Penelope marrying at all.
That she could be inveigled into so grave a step with a man whose sole
claim to merit was well-cut clothes and a command of social _patois_
was quite beyond his comprehension. In vain I argued that most women
married just such men, and perhaps it was because the sex had attained
wisdom with experience, had discovered that a brilliant mind on parade
might be amusing, but that, like its duller fellows, it retired to
barracks and found contentment in the same humdrum existence as they.
The birth of eternal, enduring love was but a matter of propinquity.
Sitting on the front doorstep of an afternoon talking and strolling
down to the drugstore every evening for soda-water, Darby and Joan
discovered that existence apart was worse than death. And so might
Joan's richer sister in the old carved chair, under the eyes of
Reynolds's majestic lady, grow accustomed to the coming and going of
Darby's richer brother, confirm herself in the habit of taking narcotic
conversation, talk of last night's dinner and to-morrow's dance, until
he seemed to become essential to her existence. All this I explained
to the Professor. He retorted that I had grown cynical. Perhaps I had
grown cynical, but my cynicism was born of experience--bitter
experience, I called it then. Perhaps, imbittered by my own thwarted
hopes, I exaggerated the danger in which Penelope stood. Perhaps, in
my own vanity and jealousy, I magnified Talcott's sins, knowing well
enough that, after all, he was no worse than most of his brothers. Yet
there was a danger, and its avoidance was simple could I only induce
the man before me to abandon his foolish pride. At least, said I, his
brother should know of the night's occurrence.

"Know that, after all my boasts, I had come to waiting in a restaurant
and quarrelling with drunken boys?" he cried, shaking his head and
waving an arm to deny my demand. "Of course, if there were any
possibility of Penelope marrying that fool it would be different. But,
David, I know Rufus. He is not brilliant, but he is shrewd, and I'll
trust him t