s such a simple way! He was not in the least a
gourmand--none of the Harolds were that; he liked only the simplest
dishes, and always demanded them; he wanted the windows open at all
seasons when the snow was not actually on the ground; he could not
endure questioning, in fact, he never answered questions at all.

Returning for one of these visits at home, Lanse had found with his aunt
a young girl, Margaret Cruger, a niece of her husband's. Evert smiled
now as he recalled certain expressions of the letter which his aunt had
written to him, the other nephew, announcing Lanse's engagement to Miss
Cruger; in the light of retrospect they had rather a sarcastic sound.
Mrs. Rutherford had written that Margaret was very young, to be
sure--not quite eighteen--but that she was very gentle and sweet. That
it was time Lanse should marry, he was thirty-two--though in her opinion
that was exactly the right age, for a man knew then what he really
wanted, and was not apt to make a mistake. That she hoped the girl would
make him the sort of wife he needed; for one thing, she was so young
that she would not set up her opinion in opposition to his, probably,
and with Lanse that would be important. Mrs. Rutherford furthermore
thought that the girl in a certain way understood him; she (Mrs.
Rutherford) had had the greatest fear of Lanse's falling into the hands
of some woman who wouldn't have the sense to appreciate him, some woman
who would try to change him; one of those dreadful Pharisaic women, for
instance, who are always trying to "improve" their husbands. There was
nothing easier than to get on with Lanse, and even to lead him a little,
as she herself (Mrs. Rutherford) had always done; one had only to take
him on the right side--his good warm heart. Margaret was almost too
simple, too yielding; but Lanse had wit and will enough for two. There
was another reason why this marriage would be a good thing for Lanse: he
had run through almost all his money (he had never had a very great
deal, as Evert would remember), and Margaret had a handsome fortune,
which would come in now very well. She was rather pretty--Margaret--in a
delicate sort of way. Mrs. Rutherford _hoped_ she appreciated her
good-luck; if she didn't now, she would soon, when she had seen a little
more of the world. And here one of his aunt's sentences came, word for
word, into Winthrop's memory: "But it's curious, isn't it, Evert? that
such an inexperienced child as she is