just the same. I
can't help it."

It was impossible for him to appreciate the effect of his personality
upon others--how, without his trying or even wishing, it made them dread
a purely imaginary displeasure and its absurdly imaginary consequences.
But this confession of hers was not the first time he had heard of the
effect of potential and latent danger he had upon those associated with
him. And, as it was most useful, he was not sorry that he had it. He
made no further attempt to convince her that he was harmless. He knew
that he was harmless where she was concerned. Was it not just as well
that she should not know it, when vaguely dreading him was producing
excellent results? As with a Christian the fear of the Lord was the
beginning of wisdom, so with a wife the fear of her husband was the
beginning of wisdom. In striving to please him, to fit herself for the
position of wife, she was using up the time she would otherwise have
spent in making herself miserable with self-pity--that supreme curse of
the idle both male and female, that most prolific of the breeders of
unhappy wives. Yes, wives were unhappy not because their husbands
neglected them, for busy people have no time to note whether they are
neglected or not, but because they gave their own worthless, negligent,
incapable selves too much attention.

One evening, she, wearing the look of the timid but resolute intruder,
came into his room while he was dressing for dinner and hung about with
an air no man of his experience could fail to understand.

"Something wrong about the house?" said he finally. "Need more money?"

"No--nothing," she replied, with a slight flush. He saw that she was
mustering all her courage for some grand effort. He waited, only mildly
curious, as his mind was busy with some new business he and Tetlow had
undertaken. Presently she stood squarely before him, her hands behind
her back and her face upturned. "Won't you kiss me?" she said.

"Sure!" said he. And he kissed her on the cheek and resumed operations
with his military brushes.

"I didn't mean that--that kind of a kiss," said she dejectedly.

He paused with a quick characteristic turn of the head, looked keenly at
her, resumed his brushing. A quizzical smile played over his face. "Oh,
I see," said he. "You've been thinking about duty. And you've decided to
do yours. . . . Eh?"

"I think--It seems to me--I don't think--" she stammered, then said
desperately, "I've not been