Though he could not ever say that she was disagreeable to him in a material way--he could not say that she had ever been that exactly--still she did not correspond to his idea of what he needed, and so---- Form had meant so much to him, color; the glorious perfectness of a glorious woman’s body, for instance, the color of her thoughts, moods--exquisite they must be, like his own at times; but no, he had never had the opportunity to know one intimately. No, not one, though he had dreamed of her so long. He had never even dared whisper this to any one, scarcely to himself. It was not wise, not socially fit. Thoughts like this would tend to social ostracism in his circle, or rather hers--for had she not made the circle? And here was the rub with Mr. Haymaker, at least, that he could not make up his mind whether in his restlessness and private mental complaints he were not even now guilty of a great moral crime in so thinking. Was it not true that men and women should be faithful in marriage whether they were happy or not? Was there not some psychic law governing this matter of union--one life, one love--which made the thoughts and the pains and the subsequent sufferings and hardships of the individual, whatever they might be, seem unimportant? The churches said so. Public opinion and the law seemed to accept this. There were so many problems, so much order to be disrupted, so much pain caused, many insoluble problems where children were concerned--if people did not stick. Was it not best, more blessed--socially, morally, and in every other way important--for him to stand by a bad bargain rather than to cause so much disorder and pain, even though he lost his own soul emotionally? He had thought so--or at least he had acted as though he thought so--and yet---- How often had he wondered over this! Take, now, some other phases. Granting first that Mrs. Haymaker had, according to the current code, measured up to the requirements of a wife, good and true, and that at first after marriage there had been just enough of physical and social charm about her to keep his state from becoming intolerable, still there was this old ache; and then newer things which came with the birth of the several children: First Elwell--named after a cousin of hers, not his--who had died only two years after he was born; and then Wesley; and then Ethelberta. How he had always disliked that name!--largely because he had hoped to call her Ottilie, a favorite name of his; or Janet, after his mother.