_Stuart._ Far be it from me to suggest that there was anything wrong in the cuisine to-night. The only criticism I could possibly make on the dinner was that there were twenty-four too many people. _Mrs. V. T. (counting on fingers)._ Twenty-four from twenty-six—that leaves two? _Stuart._ Let me congratulate you on your mental arithmetic. _Mrs. V. T._ Have you actually reached that time of life when one ceases to enjoy dinners? _Stuart._ I hope not. I was even flattering myself that my tastes were becoming more juvenile. _Mrs. V. T._ In what does that show itself? _Stuart._ In wanting something I can’t have. I believe it’s considered infantile to want the moon. _Mrs. V. T._ You want the moon? Then you must be in love! I’m so sorry I can’t stay and let you tell me all about her. I came upstairs for my domino and mustn’t tarry. [_Starts up back._ _Stuart (standing between her and the door)._ One moment, Mrs. Van Tromp. I’ll not bore you with my own love affair, but I should like to ask your help in another. _Mrs. V. T. (turning and coming down l.)._ I promise my assistance. I love to help on—other people’s love affairs. _Stuart._ There is a poor fellow downstairs who is eating his heart out with love for your cousin Agnes. He thinks you are against him. _Mrs. V. T._ You mean Mr. Stevens? _Stuart._ Yes. _Mrs. V. T._ Why, Mr. Stuart, I like Mr. Stevens, and he would be my second choice— _Stuart (interrupting)._ For yourself? _Mrs. V. T. (laughing)._ No, for Agnes. But surely you don’t expect me to work against my brother-in-law? _Stuart._ But Agnes is your cousin. Do consider her! _Mrs. V. T._ Mr. Stuart, I married Alexander Van Tromp without caring that (_snaps her fingers_) for him. Yet we hit it off together very nicely. He obtained income and I won social position. By it I have been able to introduce my uncle into good society, and give Agnes her pick of the best. Do you think I do her wrong in planning the same kind of a marriage for her? _Stuart._ Has Cupid no rights? _Mrs. V. T._ He can come later. The Van Tromps are too old a family for the members to live long. So I am only giving Agnes a few years of matrimony, like my own; and then—well, you know whether my life is gloomy or otherwise. _Stuart._ Mostly otherwise, I should say. _Mrs. V. T._ No girl of nineteen knows enough to pick out the man she can breakfast with three hundred and sixty-five days in the year for half a century. Moreover, a young girl cannot have a large enough choice. She can only say “yes” or “no” to those who ask her. On the contrary, a woman of—we’ll say twenty-eight—picks out her man and fascinates him. To quote the French again: “A girl of sixteen accepts love; a woman of thirty incites it.” _Stuart._ As you have been doing?