"Ah, all that will depend upon Jack. Doubtless he knows the meaning of 'to have and to hold.' To hold any woman's love, a man must make himself indispensable; he must be her partner in all things: her comrade and husband when need be, her lover always. There can be no going back to old haunts, so attractive to men; club life must become merely an incident. Again, he must not be under her feet all the time. Too much or too little will not do; it must be the happy between." "You are a very wise young man." Warrington laughed embarrassedly. "I have had to figure out all these things." "But if she does not love him!" "How in the world can she help it?" She caught up his hand in a motherly clasp. "We mothers are vain in our love. We make our sons paragons; we blind ourselves to their faults; we overlook their follies, and condone their sins. And we build so many castles that one day tumble down about our ears. Why is it a mother always wishes her boy to marry the woman of her choice? What right has a mother to interfere with her son's heart-desires? It may be that we fear the stranger will stand between us. A mother holds, and always will hold, that no woman on earth is good enough for her son. Now, as I recollect, I did not think Mr. Bennington too good for me." She smiled drolly. Lucky Jack! If only he had had a mother like this! Warrington thought. "I dare say he thought that, too," he said. "Myself, I never knew a mother's love. No doubt I should have been a better man. Yet, I've often observed that a boy with a loving mother takes her love as a matter of course, and never realizes his riches till he has lost them. My aunt is the only mother I have known." "And a dear, kind, loving soul she is," said Mrs. Bennington. "She loves you, if not with mother-love, at least with mother-instinct. When we two get together, we have a time of it; I, lauding my boy; she, praising hers. But I go round and round in a circle: my boy. Sons never grow up, they are always our babies; they come to us with their heartaches, at three or at thirty; there is ever one door open in the storm, the mother's heart. If she loves my boy, nothing shall be too good for her." "I feel reasonably sure that she does." Did she? he wondered. Did she love Jack as he (Warrington) wanted some day to be loved?