“Haven’t I any earning capacity?” she demanded. “Don’t I earn every cent I get? Isn’t the home as important as the office?” “Surely, surely, darling, but—” “Doesn’t a good wife earn half of the income that she shares?” she persisted. “More than half, sweetheart.” “Don’t say ‘sweetheart’ to me in the same breath that you tell me I’m not worth being insured!” she cried. “It’s positively insulting, and—and—you always said you loved me.” Her voice broke a little, and he was beside her in an instant. “You don’t understand,” he explained. “Insurance has nothing to do with your value to me or my value to you, but there is a more worldly value—” “Oh, you’re of some account in the world and I’m not!” she broke in, her indignation driving back the tears. “Isabel, you’re simply priceless to me!” “But, if I hadn’t happened to meet you, I suppose I’d be a nonentity!” she flashed back at him. “I’m just a piece of property that you happen to like, and—why, Harry Beckford, men insure property, don’t they?” “Of course, but—” “And I’m not worth insuring, even as property!” she wailed. “Oh, I didn’t think you could ever be so cruel, so heartless! You might at least let me think I’m worth something.” The young husband was in despair. He argued, pleaded, explained in vain; she could only see that he put a value on his life that he did not put on hers, and it hurt her pride. Besides, they were partners in everything else, so why not in insurance? “But I wouldn’t want the insurance on your life,” he urged. “Do you think I’m any more mercenary than you?” she retorted. “I don’t want the insurance, either; I want you—when you’re nice to me.” “We’ll think it over,” he said wearily. “I’ve thought,” she returned decisively. “If it’s such a good thing, I think you’re mean not to let me share it with you.” Then, with sudden cheerfulness: “It would be rather jolly and exciting to go together, just as we go to the theater and—and—all other amusements.” He laughed at her classification of life insurance among the pleasures of life, and then he kissed her again. Her unreasoning opposition distressed him, but resentment was quite out of the question. There was momentary exasperation, and then a little love-making, to bring the smiles back to her face. All else could wait. It is a noteworthy fact, however, that life insurance takes a strong hold on a man the moment he really decides he ought to have it, and opposition only adds to his determination. He who finds that, because of some unsuspected physical failing, he can not get it, immediately is possessed with a mania for it. So long as he considered it within his reach, he turned the agents away; now he goes to them and lies and pleads and tries desperately to gain that which he did not want until he found he could not get it.