wife together. This more or
less uncomfortable, and always anxious, interest, generally develops in
that critical time when the heat of passion has begun to cool, and the
friction of the commonplace produces a certain warmth of its own. These
are the days when conjugal criticism, which has been smothered under the
undiscriminating admiration of first love, begins to raise its head--an
ugly head, with a mean eye, in which there is neither imagination nor
humor. When this criticism begins to creep into daily life, and the lure
of the bare shoulder and perfumed hair lessens--because they are as
assured as bread and butter!--it is then that this saving unity of
purpose in acquiring bread and butter comes to the rescue.

It came to the rescue of Maurice and Eleanor; they had many welding
moments of anxiety on his part, and eager self-sacrifice on her part; of
adding up columns of figures, with a constantly increasing total, which
had to be subtracted from a balance which decreased so rapidly that
Eleanor felt quite sure that the bank was cheating them! Of course they
did not appreciate the value of this blessed young poverty--who of us
ever appreciates poverty while we are experiencing it? We only know its
value when we look back upon it! But they did--or at least Eleanor
did--appreciate their isolation, never realizing that no human life can
refresh another unless it may itself drink deep of human sympathies and
hopes. Maurice could take this refreshment through business contacts;
but, except for Mrs. O'Brien, and her baby grandson, Don, Eleanor's
acquaintances in Mercer had been limited to her aunt's rather narrow
circle.

When Mrs. Newbolt got back from Europe, Maurice was introduced to this
circle at a small dinner given to the bride and groom to indicate family
forgiveness. The guests were elderly people, who talked politics and
surgical operations, and didn't know what to say to Maurice, whose
blond hair and good-humored blue eyes made him seem distressingly young.
Nor did Maurice know what to say to them.

"I'd have gone to sleep," he told Eleanor, in exploding mirth, on their
way home, "if it hadn't been that the food was so mighty good! I kept
awake, in spite of that ancient dame who hashed up the Civil War, just
to see what the next course would be!"

It was about this time that Maurice began to show a little longing for
companionship (outside the office) of a kind which did not remember the
Civil War. His eve