“Well, you see,” Laura warmed to her engrossing subject, “he says he thinks that every one ought to stick to their own ideas and be independent. But he always thinks (and you know, Gran’papa’s just the same) that it’s amazing that the people who disagree with him can be so intolerant and impervious to reason. So I always begin by disagreeing and let him argue it out. And then I see his point and he thinks how sensible I am. And if I know beforehand what he’s going to say about a thing I say it quickly first. Then he nods at me, as if anyhow he were always sure of me.” “Well, of all the hypocrites——” “It isn’t. Don’t you see?” Coral looked at her kindly. “Oh, in a way I suppose, it is—” Laura sighed. “But—but I don’t believe it’s wrong. You see—Justin’s so straight-forward. If he’s in a mood—well, he’s in a mood. He couldn’t suppress himself for the sake of—oh, politeness or amusing people or being pleasant. He wouldn’t know how to. But, my dear, if _I_ started that—being myself—it wouldn’t work. Suppose I were in a depressed mood one day when Justin was cheerful and stuck to my mood instead of slipping into his? Why, he wouldn’t know what was happening. He’d ask if I’d got toothache. He’d be bored to death.” Coral was looking interested. “Considering the little fool you can be, you know something about men. Where d’you get it from, Laura?” “Birds’ eggs,” said Laura with a twinkle. “Oho! Now I see! Well, fire ahead! ‘Justin would be bored.’ Not that that would hurt him.” “No, but, he’d go home. And if I were myself for a week he’d go home for good. I’d lose him. And then I’d die.” “You won’t keep it up when you’re married,” said Coral, with her esoteric smile. “I shall. Always and always and always. Every day till the last minute of my life. What does it matter? I’m happy. But it’s all nonsense to say that two plants can grow in one pot. It doesn’t work. They haven’t room. But you can graft one on to the other as a rule. I’m grafted on to Justin. Oh, I daresay I’d have been a showier plant in a pot of my own; but it’s too late to ungraft me now. I’d shrivel. I’m rooted in Justin.” Coral, demolishing that theory of life, was Jael and her hammer in one. “That’s crazy. That doesn’t work. Suppose he died? What’s the use of shuddering? He might. It’s not common sense to get so fond of any one. It’s not fair to yourself.” Laura smiled. “You needn’t worry about me.” “And—” Coral had an odd, fugitive air of resenting the happy light in Laura’s eyes—“it’s not fair to him.” The light faded. Laura began anxiously—— “Not fair? What do you mean—not fair?” “Only that you’ll spoil him, if you haven’t already, you and Grannie between you. And I’ll tell you another thing. Haven’t you found out yet, you little fool, that a man doesn’t want to be loved? He wants to do that himself. He’ll think all the world of you if you make him feel like loving you; but he won’t say thank-you if you just love him. Don’t tell me! I know men.”