and to dissemble her
pleasure, she put an extra-sharp edge on her voice. "I don't wear
clothes to make me look younger; I wear 'em to cover me up."

"That's more than I can say for the present generation."

"Ugh!" said Miss Starkweather. "Don't speak of it! Shameless little
trollops! But the _worst_ comment you could make about this present
day is that men _like_ it. They _like_ to see those disgraceful
get-ups. They _marry_ those girls. Beyond _me_."

Mr. Mix sneezed unexpectedly. There was a cold draught on the back of
his neck, but as Mirabelle said nothing about closing the window, he
hesitated to ask permission. "I've always wondered what effect it
would have had on your--public career--if you hadn't preferred to
remain single."

"My opinions aren't annuals, Mr. Mix. They're hardy perennials."

"I know, but do you think a married woman ought to devote herself
entirely to public affairs? Shouldn't she consider marriage almost a
profession in itself?"

"Well, I don't know about that. Duty's duty."

"Oh, to be sure. But would marriage have interfered with your career?
Would you have let it? Or is marriage really the higher duty of the
two?"

"There's something in that, Mr. Mix. I never did believe a married
woman ought to be in the road _all_ the time."

"It _was_ a question of your career, then?"

Mirabelle put down her cup. "Humph! No, it wasn't. Right man never
asked me."

Mr. Mix's mind was on tiptoe. "But your standards are so
lofty--naturally, they _would_ be." He paused. "I wonder what your
standard really is. Is it--unapproachable? Or do you see some good in
most of us?"

Mirabelle sat primly erect, but her voice had an unusual overtone.
"Oh, no, I'm not a ninny. But good husbands don't grow on goose-berry
bushes. If I'd ever found a man that had the right principles, and the
respect of everybody, and not too much tom-foolishness--a good, solid,
earnest citizen I could be proud of--"

Mr. Mix interpolated a wary comment. "You didn't mention money."

She sniffed. "Do I look like the kind of a woman that would marry for
money?"

"And in all these--I mean to say, haven't you ever met a man who
complied with these conditions?"

She made no intelligible response, but as Mr. Mix watched her, he was
desperately aware that his moment had come. His next sentence would
define his future.

He was absolutely convinced, through his private source of information,
that Henry was due to fall short of h