He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. “I made two fruit pies and now I have no one to eat them. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. No man knew whence she had come nor why. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked. At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands.
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