re cultivated; but it is all mixed up'-Mr. Cupples
waved his hands in a vague gesture--'with ideals of refinement and
reservation and womanly mystery. I fear she is not a child of the age.
You never knew my wife, Trent. Mabel is my wife's child.'

The younger man bowed his head. They paced the length of the lawn before
he asked gently, 'Why did she marry him?'

'I don't know,' said Mr. Cupples briefly.

'Admired him, I suppose,' suggested Trent.

Mr. Cupples shrugged his shoulders. 'I have been told that a woman will
usually be more or less attracted by the most successful man in her
circle. Of course we cannot realize how a wilful, dominating personality
like his would influence a girl whose affections were not bestowed
elsewhere; especially if he laid himself out to win her. It is probably
an overwhelming thing to be courted by a man whose name is known all
over the world. She had heard of him, of course, as a financial great
power, and she had no idea--she had lived mostly among people of
artistic or literary propensities--how much soulless inhumanity that
might involve. For all I know, she has no adequate idea of it to this
day. When I first heard of the affair the mischief was done, and I knew
better than to interpose my unsought opinions. She was of age, and there
was absolutely nothing against him from the conventional point of view.
Then I dare say his immense wealth would cast a spell over almost any
woman. Mabel had some hundreds a year of her own; just enough,
perhaps, to let her realize what millions really meant. But all this is
conjecture. She certainly had not wanted to marry some scores of young
fellows who to my knowledge had asked her; and though I don't believe,
and never did believe, that she really loved this man of forty-five, she
certainly did want to marry him. But if you ask me why, I can only say I
don't know.'

Trent nodded, and after a few more paces looked at his watch. 'You've
interested me so much,' he said, 'that I had quite forgotten my main
business. I mustn't waste my morning. I am going down the road to White
Gables at once, and I dare say I shall be poking about there until
midday. If you can meet me then, Cupples, I should like to talk over
anything I find out with you, unless something detains me.'

'I am going for a walk this morning,' Mr. Cupples replied. 'I meant to
have luncheon at a little inn near the golf-course, The Three Tuns. You
had better join me there. It's furth