dare say anything," she answered, looking as if she were
about to cry. "I'm sure I envy you, you're so supremely contented. I don't
think I was made to care for children."

"That might come," said Juliet softly. "I'm sure it would, Judith. As for
Wayne, if you could see the look on his face I've surprised there more
than once, when he had little Anthony, and he thought nobody noticed, it
would make your heart ache, dear. Don't deny him--or yourself--the best
thing that can happen to either of you. At least, don't deny it for lack
of a home. I'm sure I can't imagine Tony, Junior, in these rooms of yours.
They don't look," she explained, smiling, "exactly babyish."

She rose to go. She looked so young and fair and sweet as she spoke her
gentle homily that Judith, half doubting, half believing, admitted to
herself that of one thing there could be no question: Mrs. Anthony Robeson
envied nobody upon the face of the earth.

The visits of the Robesons to the various apartments which were in
rotation occupied by the Careys were few. Somehow it seemed much easier
and simpler for the pair who had no children, and no housekeeping to
hamper them, to run out into the suburbs than for their friends to get
into town. So the Careys came with ever increasing frequency, always
warmly welcomed, and enjoyed the hours within the little house so
thoroughly that in time the influence of the content they saw so often
began to have its inevitable effect.

"I've great news for you," said Anthony, coming home one March day, when
little Tony was nearing his second birthday. "It's about the Careys.
Guess."

"They are going to housekeeping."

"How did you know?"

"I didn't know, but Judith told me weeks ago she supposed she should have
to come to it. Have they found a house?"

"Carey thinks he has. Judith doesn't like the place, for about fifty good
and sufficient reasons--to her. He's trying to persuade her. He has an
option on it for ten days. He wants us to come out and look at it with
them."

"Where is it?"

"About as far east of the city as we are north. If to-morrow is a good day
I promised we would run out with them on the ten-fifteen. I suspect they
need us badly. Wayne looks like a man distracted. The great trouble, I
fancy, is going to be that Judith Dearborn Carey is still too much of a
Dearborn to be able to make a home out of anything. And Carey can't do it
alone."

"Indeed he can't, poor fellow. I never saw a man in my l