e some walk."

They plodded along in silence. This time Hard broke it.

"Clara, do you think that youngster is good enough for Marc Scott? You're
clever enough to judge people even on a short acquaintance."

"Heavens, Henry, what a question!"

"I admit it's crude. Theoretically, any nice girl confers a tremendous
favor on the man she marries merely by so doing; man being inherently
vile. But, Clara, honestly, man to man, how many nice girls one knows who
would be the deuce to live with!"

Clara's eyes twinkled. "Henry," she said, "you're perfectly right, of
course, but man to man, do you think you've any right to assume that the
ones who aren't nice are any pleasanter--taken as a steady diet?"

"Well, no, if you put it like that. But, I mean--well--this Polly
youngster, of whom by the way I am very fond, I don't know why, she's as
spoiled as the deuce, has had very little education----"

"She graduated from Wellesley, so she tells me."

"Truly? How well they cover it up these days! In my youth, you knew when a
woman was well educated."

"And avoided her. That's why they learned to cover it up."

"Don't be trivial. What I mean is this. Scott is an unusual fellow. He's
brought himself up from nothing, with only a boost here and there from
someone who recognized his worth. He's rough and he's odd, but he has a
mind. He will always be a man of importance in his community."

"I admit all that; but it doesn't imply that he's too good for Polly."

"No, but after all, what does a spoiled society girl of twenty-four know
about a worth-while man, anyhow?"

"Oh, my dear Henry, wake up! You aren't living in the Victorian period.
She knows a lot more about everything than you think, and well for her
that she does. Girls of to-day may be daring, they may be over confident,
they may be hard, but at least they know something of the world outside
their own environment. After all, life's a tricky job for a woman--don't
begrudge her a little folly before she undertakes it."

"I don't. I like frivolous girls--in a way; but I don't like to see a man
with a brain marrying a kitten."

"Polly Street isn't a kitten. She's never had to consider anything more
serious than a golf course, but she'll make good when the time comes.
She's shown that since she's been here. But, Henry, why this sudden
interest in match-making? Has he, by any chance, asked your valuable
advice?"

"Good Heavens, no!"

"Match-making, you know, belongs t