se's convenience.
To-day, however, she had a motive for being on time--that is to say, not
more than twenty minutes late. They were going to play bridge at
Eleanor's and Bobby would be there; and for some reason she never
understood it fussed Bobby if she were late and everyone began abusing
her behind her back; and if Bobby were fussed he lost money, and he
couldn't afford to lose it. She hated Bobby to lose money--minded it for
him more than he minded it for himself.

One of the facts that she saw most clearly in regard to her own life was
that the man she married must be a man of importance, not only because
her friends expected that of her but because she needed a purpose, a
heightened interest--a great man in her life. Yet strangely enough the
only men to whom her heart had ever softened were idle, worthless men,
of whom Bobby was only a sample. Among women she liked the positive
qualities--courage, brilliance, achievement; but among men she seemed to
have selected those who needed a strong controlling hand upon their
destiny. Benny said it was the maternal in her, but less friendly
critics said it was the boss. Perhaps the two are not so dissociated as
is generally thought. Lydia repudiated the maternal explanation without
finding another. Only she knew that the very thing that made her fond of
men like Bobby prevented her falling in love with them; whereas the men
with whom it seemed possible to fall in love were men with whom she
always quarreled, so that instead of love there was not even friendship.

Some years before she had been actually engaged to be married--though
the engagement had never been announced--to an Englishman, a thin,
hawk-faced man, the Marquis of Ilseboro. She was not in love with him,
though he was a man with whom women did fall in love. Benny had been
crazy about him. He was companionable in a silent sort of way, made love
to her with extreme assurance and knew a great deal about life and
women.

But from the very first their two wills had clashed in small matters--in
questions of invitations, manners, Lydia's dress. Again and again
Ilseboro had yielded, but yielded with a deliberation that gave no
suggestion of defeat. These struggles which go on out of sight and below
consciousness in most relations are never decided by the actual event
but by the strength of position in which the combatants are left. Benny,
for instance, sometimes did the most rebellious things, but did them in
a sor