hand on his. Crane gave it a good brisk squeeze and
returned it to her lap as if it were too dear for his possessing; and
she went on: "I own I am anxious about Cora. She is very deep, very
reserved; she tells me nothing, but she is not happy, Burton."

"I'm sorry for that," said Crane, in a very matter-of-fact tone. He got
up and went to a table where the cigarettes were. The profound male
instinct of self-preservation was now thoroughly awake, and he knew
exactly what he was in for. Only, he noted, that if he had had this
interview with Mrs. Falkener before he had seen the cook, he might quite
easily have been persuaded that, in the absence of any more definite
vocation, he had been created to make Cora Falkener's life tolerable to
her. As it was, he saw perfectly that altruism was no sound basis for
matrimony.

"You don't understand what it is to be a mother, Burt."

Crane admitted with a shake of his head that he didn't.

"But I have an instinct that this is not the best place for Cora."

"Well, if you were a man, Mrs. Falkener," said Crane, "I should say that
that instinct was the result of being poorly valeted. It must be a bore
for women to have a wretched maid like Lily. Don't you think that if I
found some one a little more competent that you and Cora would feel you
could put in at least a week or so with us? The hunting is really going
to be good, and Cora does enjoy hunting."

Mrs. Falkener refused to lighten the tone of the conversation. She shook
her head.

"No," she said, "no. I'm afraid even a good maid would not help. In
fact, to speak plainly, my dear Burton--"

But at this moment the door opened and Tucker came in. His hair was
somewhat rumpled by the wind, his hands were still in his pockets as he
had had them during his constitutional on the front porch, and his eyes,
contracted by the sudden light, looked almost white.

"Well," he said, "are you enjoying this musical party downstairs?"

All three listened in silence, and could hear the strains of "Home,
Sweet Home" coming from below.

"They have a phonograph and they are singing in parts," said Tucker, as
if this somehow made it worse.

"If we got Miss Falkener down, we might do something ourselves," said
Crane, but there was nothing frivolous in his manner when he rang and
told Smithfield there was too much noise downstairs.

Smithfield begged pardon and had not a notion it could be heard
upstairs. Crane said the boy's, Brindlebury's