rely? You
want to be treasured and valued--all that sort of thing."

"Yes, I know! But my ideal would be that there should be just as much
excitement and romance and _fun_ after marriage as before--if it were
possible."

"Oh, good heavens, Bertha! then, if one were to go by that horrible
theory of your brother's, one ought never to marry the person one loves,
if one wants to keep them."

"No, in theory, one ought not. But then, where are you if he goes and
marries someone else? After all, you'd rather he got tired of _you_ than
of the other person! Wouldn't you prefer he should make _your_ life
miserable than any other woman's? Besides, one must take a risk. It's
worth it."

"I should think it is, indeed!" cried Madeline. "Why, I would marry
Rupert if I thought I should never see him again after a month or
two--if I knew for a fact he would get tired of me!"

"Of course you would, and quite right too. But remember people are not
all alike. There are any number of men who are absolutely incapable of
being really in love with anyone who belongs to them. They simply can't
help it. It's the instinct of the chase. And it's mere waste of time and
energy to attempt to change them."

"Are you speaking of men or husbands?"

"Either, really. But don't let's forget that there are a great many
others, on the other hand, who care for nothing and no one who isn't
their own. Collectors, rather than hunters. Surely you've noticed that,
Madeline? It's a passion for property. The kind of man who thinks _his_
house, _his_ pictures, _his_ cook, even his mother, everything connected
with him must be better than the possessions of anyone else. Well, this
kind of man is quite capable of remaining very devoted to his own wife,
and in love with her, if she's only decently nice to him; and even if
she's not. I mean the sort of man one sometimes sees at a party,
pointing out some utterly insignificant person there, and declaring that
Gladys or Jane, or whoever it is, takes the shine out of everyone else,
and that there's no one else in the room to touch her. His wife, of
course. I don't mean out of devotion--that's another, finer
temperament--but simply and solely because she belongs to him."

"Well, Bertha, I don't care what his reason is, I _like_ that man!"

"Oh, rather! So do I. And very often he's not a bit appreciated; though
he would be by us. Perhaps the most usual case of all is for the
husband, if he's married for love, to re