with the difficult situation, should
it ever present itself, but there are other considerations which act as
a discouragement to matrimony.

The chains of love may be sweet bondage, but freedom is hardly less
dear. The spinster, like the wind, may go where she listeth, and there
is no one to say her nay. A modern essayist has pointed out that "if a
mortal knows his mate cannot get away, he is apt to be severe and
unreasonable."

The thought of being compelled to ask for money, and perhaps to meet
with refusal, frequently acts as a deterrent upon incipient love. A man
is often generous with his sweetheart and miserly with his wife. In the
days of courtship, the dollars may fly on wings in search of pleasure
for the well-beloved, and yet, after marriage, they will be squeezed
until the milling is worn smooth, the eyes start from the eagle, and
until one half-way expects to hear the noble bird scream.

[Sidenote: Unlimited Credit]

There are girls in every circle, married to men not by any means
insolvent, who have unlimited credit, but never any money of their own.
They have carriages but no car fare; fine stationery, monogrammed and
blazoned with a coat of arms, but not by any chance a postage stamp.

Many a woman in such circumstances covenants with the tradespeople to
charge as merchandise what is really cash, and sells laces and ribbons
to her friends a little below cost. When a girl is approached with a
plea to have her purchases charged to her friend's account, and to pay
her friend rather than the merchant, is it not sufficient to postpone
possible matrimony at least six months? Adversity has no terrors for a
woman; she will gladly share misfortune with the man she loves, but
simple selfishness is a very different proposition.

[Sidenote: "Wedded to their Art"]

There are also the dazzling allurements offered by various "careers"
which bring fame and perhaps fortune. The glittering triumphs of a prima
donna, a picture on the line in the Salon, or a possible book which
shall sell into the hundred thousands, are not without a certain charm,
even though people who are "wedded to their art" sometimes get a divorce
without asking for it.

The universal testimony of the great, that fame itself is barren, is
thrust aside as of small moment. She does not realise that it is love
for which she hungers, rather than fame, which is the admiration of the
many. Sometimes she learns that "the love of all is but a small th