"Not I, for one," confessed he. "We never know what there is in us until
circumstances bring it out."
"A devoted father and a doting husband," pursued Ursula. "I must say I
rather sympathize with you as a doting husband. Of course, I, a woman,
can't see her as you do. I can't imagine a man--especially a man of your
sort--going stark mad about a mere woman. But, as women go, I'll admit
she is a good specimen. Not the marvel of intelligence and complex
character you imagine, but still a good specimen. And physically--" She
laughed--"_That's_ what caught you. That's what holds you--and will hold
you as long as it lasts."
"Was there ever a woman who didn't think that?--and didn't like to
think it, though I believe many of them make strong pretense at scorning
the physical." Fred was regarding his sister with a quizzical
expression. "You approve of her?" he said.
"More than I'd have thought possible. And after I've taken her about in
the world a while she'll be perfect."
"No doubt," said Norman. "But, alas, she'll never be perfect. For,
you're not going to take her about."
"So she says when I talk of it to her," replied Ursula. "But I know
you'll insist. You needn't be uneasy as to how she'll be received."
"I'm not," said Norman dryly.
"You've got back all you lost--and more. How we Americans do worship
success!"
"Don't suggest to Dorothy anything further about society," said Norman.
"I've no time or taste for it, and I don't wish to be annoyed by
intrusions into my home."
"But you'll not be satisfied always with just her," urged his sister.
"Besides, you've got a position to maintain."
Norman's smile was cynically patient. "I want my home and I want my
career," said he. "And I don't want any society nonsense. I had the good
luck to marry a woman who knows and cares nothing about it. I don't
purpose to give up the greatest advantage of my marriage."
Ursula was astounded. She knew the meaning of his various tones and
manners, and his way of rejecting her plans for Dorothy--and,
incidentally, for her own amusement--convinced her that he was through
and through in earnest. "It will be dreadfully lonesome for her, Fred,"
she pleaded.
"We'll wait till that trouble faces us," replied he, not a bit
impressed. "And don't forget--not a word of temptation to her from you."
This with an expression that warned her how well he knew her indirect
ways of accomplishing what she could not gain directly.
"Oh, I shan't interfere," said she in a tone that made it a binding
promise. "But you can't expect me to sympathize with your plans for an
old-fashioned domestic life."
"Certainly not," said Norman. "You don't understand. Women of your sort
never do. That's why you're not fit to be the wives of men worth while.
A serious man and a society woman can't possibly hit it off together.
For a serious man the outside world is a place to work, and home is a
place to rest. For a society woman, the world is a place to idle and
home is a work shop, an entertainment factory. It's impossible to
reconcile those two opposite ideas."
She saw his point at once, and it appealed to her intelligence. And she
had his own faculty for never permitting prejudice to influence
judgment. She said in a dubious tone, "Do you think Dorothy will
sympathize with your scheme?"
"I'm sure I don't know," replied he.
"If she doesn't--" Ursula halted there.
Her brother shrugged his shoulders. "If she proves to be the wrong sort
of woman for me, she'll go her way and I mine."
"Why, I thought you loved her!"
"What have I said that leads you to change your mind?" said he.
"A man does not take the high hand with the woman he adores."
"So?" said Norman tranquilly.
"Well," said his puzzled sister by way of conclusion, "if you persist in
being the autocrat----"
"Autocrat?--I?" laughed he. "Am I trying to compel her to do anything
she doesn't wish to do? Didn't I say she would be free to go if she were
dissatisfied with me and my plan--if she didn't adopt it gladly as her
own plan, also?"
"But you know very well she's dependent upon you, Fred."
"Is that my fault? Does a man force a woman to become dependent? And
just because she is dependent, should he therefore yield to her and let
her make of his life a waste and a folly?"
"You're far too clever for me to argue with. Anyhow, as I was saying, if
you persist in what I call tyranny----"
"When a woman cries tyranny, it means she's furious because she is not
getting _her_ autocratic way."
"Maybe so," admitted Ursula cheerfully. "At any rate, if you
persist--unless she loves you utterly, your life will be miserable."
"She may make her own life miserable, but not mine," replied he. "If I
were the ordinary man--counting himself lucky to have induced any woman
to marry him--afraid if he lost his woman he'd not be able to get
another--able to give his woman only an indifferent poor support, and so
on--if I were one of those men, what you say might be true. But what
deep and permanent mischief can a frail woman do a strong man?"
"There's instance after instance in history----"
"Of strong men wrecking _themselves_ through various kinds of madness,
including sex madness. But, my dear Ursula, not an instance--not
one--where the woman was responsible. If history were truth, instead of
lies--you women might have less conceit."
"You--talking this way!" mocked Ursula.
"Meaning, I suppose, my late infatuation?" inquired he, unruffled.
"I never saw or read of a worse case."
"Am I ruined?"
"No. But why not? Because you got her. If you hadn't--" Ursula blew out
a large cloud of cigarette smoke with a "Pouf!"
"If I hadn't got her," said Norman, "I'd have got well, just the same,
in due time. A sick _weak_ man goes down; a sick _strong_ man gets well.
When a man who's reputed to be strong doesn't get well, it's because he
merely seemed strong but wasn't. The poets and novelists and the
historians and the rest of the nature fakers fail to tell _all_ the facts,
dear sister. All the facts would spoil a pretty story."
Ursula thought a few minutes, suddenly burst out with, "Do you think
Dorothy loves you now?"
Norman rose to go out doors. "I don't think about such unprofitable
things," said he. "As long as we suit each other and get along
pleasantly--why bother about a name for it?"
In the French window he paused, stood looking out with an expression so
peculiar that Ursula, curious, came to see the cause. A few yards away,
under a big symmetrical maple in full leaf sat Dorothy with the baby on
her lap. She was dressed very simply in white. There was a little
sunlight upon her hair, a sheen of gold over her skin. She was looking
down at the baby. Her expression----
Said Ursula: "Several of the great painters have tried to catch that
expression. But they've failed."
Norman made no reply. He had not heard. All in an instant there had been
revealed to him a whole new world--a view of man and woman--of woman--of
sex--its meaning so different from what he had believed and lived.
"What're you thinking about, Fred?" inquired his sister.
He shook his head, with a mysterious smile, and strolled away.