n. With masculine confidence in his ability, he took upon
himself not only his wife's problems, but Mary's. Mary was forced to
admit, even while she rebelled, that his judgments were usually wise.
Yet, she asked herself, what right had an outsider to dictate in
matters which pertained to herself and Barry? And what right had he to
offer her board for Constance? Constance, who was her very own?

But when she had indignantly voiced her objection to Gordon, he had
laughed. "You are like all women, Mary," he had said, "and of course I
appreciate your point of view and your hospitality. But if you think
that I am going to let my wife stay here and add to your troubles and
expense without giving adequate compensation, you are vastly mistaken.
If you won't let us pay, we won't stay, and that's all there is to it."

Here was masculine firmness against which Mary might rage impotently.
After all, Constance was Gordon's wife, and he could carry her off.

"Of course," she said, yielding stiffly, "you must do as you think
best."

"I shall," he said, easily, "and I will write you a check now, and you
can have it to settle any immediate demands upon your exchequer. I
shall be away a good deal, and I want Constance to be with you and Aunt
Isabelle. It is a favor to me, Mary, to have her here. You mustn't
add to my obligations by making me feel too heavily in your debt."

He smiled as he said it, and Gordon had a nice smile. And presently
Mary found herself smiling back.

"Gordon," she said, in a half apology, "Porter calls me Contrary Mary.
Maybe I am--but you see, Constance was my sister before she was your
wife."

He leaned back in his chair and looked at her. "And you've had twenty
years more of her than I--but please God, Mary, I am going to have
twenty beautiful years ahead of me to share with her--I hope it may be
three times twenty."

His voice shook, and in that moment Mary felt nearer to him than ever
before.

"Oh, Gordon," she said, "I'm a horrid little thing. I've been jealous
because you took Constance away from me. But now I'm glad you--took
her, and I hope I'll live to dance at your--golden wedding." And then,
most unexpectedly, she found herself sobbing, and Gordon was patting
her on the back in a big-brotherly way, and saying that he didn't blame
her a bit, and that if anybody wanted to take Constance away from him,
they'd have to do it over his dead body.

Then he wrote the check, and Mary to