see the universe as a mirror for ourselves!) he
appraised humanity at his valuation of himself. He didn't use Solomon's
six words, but the eight of his generation were just as exact--"_The
whole blooming outfit is a rotten lie!_ If," he reflected, "deceit isn't
on my 'Lily' line, it is on a thousand other lines." From the small
cowardices of appreciations and admirations which one did not really
feel, up through the bread-and-butter necessities of business, on into
the ridiculousness of what is called "Democracy" or "Liberty"--on, even,
into those emotional evasions of logic and reason labeled
"Religion"--all lies--all lies! he told himself. "And I," he used to
think, looking back on seven years of marriage, "I am the most
accomplished liar of the whole shootin' match!... If they get off that G.
Washington gag on me any more at the office, somebody'll get their head
punched."

All the same, even if he did say, "_O_ Lord!" he was carefully kind to
his boring wife.

But when Edith (suddenly grown up, it seemed to Maurice) came back for
the fall term, he said "_O_ Lord!" less frequently. The world began to
seem to him a less rotten place. "Nice to have you round again,
Skeezics!" he told her; and Eleanor, listening, went up to her room, and
sat with her fingers pressed hard on her eyes. "It's dreadful to have
her around! How _can_ I get rid of her?" she thought. Very often now the
flame of jealousy flared up; it scorched her whenever she recognized
Edith's "brains," whenever she noticed some gay fearlessness, or easy
capability; whenever she watched the girl's high-handed treatment of
Maurice: criticizing him! Telling him he was mean because he was always
saying he "couldn't afford things"! Declaring that she wished he would
stop his everlasting practicing--and apparently not caring a copper for
him! If Edith said, "Oh, Maurice, you are a perfect _idiot_!" Eleanor
would see him grin with pleasure; but when Eleanor put her arms around
him and kissed him, he sighed. To Maurice's wife these things were all
like oil on fire; but it never occurred to her to try to develop in
herself any of the qualities he seemed to find attractive in Edith.
Instead, she thought of that June day in the meadow by the river when he
said he loved her inefficiency--he loved her timidity, and, oh, how he
had loved her love! He had made her promise to be jealous! Eleanor was
not a reasoning person--probably no jealous woman is; but she did
recogni