r things when we were all applauding her choice. And
I will do her the justice to say that I don't believe she has the
faintest notion Arnold will really fight to keep the children. You
see, she still thinks the world is hers."

"Perhaps it is," I offered. The comfort of Mary's presence was
beginning to rest and appease me, and I was a little less conscious of
my aching conscience. "The Westerner--is he--is he--"

"Perfectly presentable. Quite a scholar. Collects pictures. Has all
kinds of notions. He and Desire are {91} ideally congenial. Very
properly he is keeping himself at long distance and entirely out of
it. No one but ourselves surmises that he exists. And it really is an
enormous fortune. I can imagine Desire doing all kinds of interesting
things with it."

"Do you know what Lucretia said to me, Mary?"

She shook her head.

_"You, too? Can money buy you, too?"_ I quoted. "I shall never forget
how Lucretia looked as she said it."

"Stub--the world moves. It may be moving in the wrong direction, but
if we don't move with it, we are bound to be left behind."

"Mary Greening," I retorted, "do you really mean that you detect in
yourself a willingness to have an unjustified divorce and a huge,
vulgar {92} fortune in the family, just because they are up to date?"

"Benjamin Raynie, if down at the bottom of my soul there is crawling
and sneaking a microscopical acquiescence in the muddle Desire is
making of life, it is probably due to the reason you mention. I am
just as ashamed of it as I can be! I ought to be plunged in grief,
like Lucretia. And I _am_--only--well, I want to help Desire, and I
can't help her if I let myself feel like that. I suppose you'll think
I'm an unmoral old thing, but I see it this way: if these affairs are
going to happen in one's very own family, one might as well put them
through with a high hand. I intend to stand by Desire. Of course the
Ackroyds will do the same by Arnold. Desire will never be received in
this town again with their consent. They are entirely in the right.
But I shall {93} have to fight them for Desire's sake, just the same."

"Stubby! Stubby! There is n't a particle of logic as big as a pin-head
about you, and I don't approve of you at all--but I do like you
tremendously!"

Mary Greening rose abruptly, crossed to the window, and stood looking
out for a time. Then she came back and, dropping awkwardly beside my
chair, buried her convulsed and quivering face in