ou to live in Bainbridge. I may
as well confess now that it was only my serene confidence in your sense
of humor which permitted me to marry you at all. I should never have
dared to offer Aunt Caroline as an 'in-law' to anyone who couldn't see
a joke."

"You are very fond of her all the same," said Desire shrewdly. "And
though she expects very little from anyone, she evidently adores you.
She can't be all funny. There must be an Aunt Caroline, deep down, that
is not funny at all. I think I'm rather afraid of her. Only you have so
often said that she wished you to get married--"

"Excuse me, my dear. What I said was, 'Aunt Caroline wished to get me
married.' The position of the infinitive is the important thing. Aunt
Caroline never intended me to do it all by myself."

"Oh. Then, in that case, she may resent your having done it."

"Resent," cheerfully, "is a feeble word. It doesn't express Aunt
Caroline at all."

"You take it calmly."

"Well, you see I've got you to fight for me now."

They looked at each other over the empty coffee cups and laughed.

It is easy to laugh on a fine morning. But if they had known where Aunt
Caroline was at that moment--how-ever, they didn't.

"Once," said Spence "my Aunt read a book upon Eugenics. I don't know
how it happened. It was one of those inexplicable events for which no
one can account. It made a deep impression. She has studied me ever
since with a view to scientific matrimony. Alas, my poor relative!"

"I once read a book upon Eugenics, too," said Desire with a reminiscent
smile. "It seemed sensible. Of course I was not personally interested
and that always makes a difference. One thing occurred to me,
though--it didn't seem to give Nature credit for much judgment."

Benis chuckled. "No, it wouldn't. Terrible old blunderer, Nature!
Always working for the average. Never seems to have heard the word
'specialize.' We've got her there."

"Then you think--"

"Oh no," hastily, "I don't. I observe results with interest, that is
all."

Desire began to collect the breakfast dishes. "That was where the book
seemed weak," she said thoughtfully. "It hadn't much to say about
results. It dealt mostly with consequences. They," she added after a
pause, "were rather frightening."

The professor glanced at her sharply. Had she been worrying over this?
Had she connected it with that dreadful old man whom she called father?
But her face was quite untroubled as she went on.

"I