"You wouldn’t understand if I told you," she said again. "Is it fair to say that," said John, "before you’ve found me wanting in understanding?" "No, but I know you wouldn’t understand. Besides--it’s about you." "The reason why you can’t come?" "Yes." "What is it?" "I’ll tell you another time, perhaps." Ah, but that would never do. You can’t tell people another time. They don’t want to hear it then. "You can tell me now," persisted John. She shook her head. "There’s only one time to tell things," he said. "When?" "Now." She just began. Her lips parted. She took the breath for speech. The words came into her eyes. "No--I can’t tell you--don’t ask me." But he asked. He kept on asking. Whenever there was a pause, he gently asked again. He began putting the words into her mouth, and when he’d half said it for her, he asked once more. "Why do you keep on asking?" she said with a smile. "Because I know," said John. "You know?" "Yes." "Then why----" "Because I want you to tell me, and because I only know a little. I don’t know it all. I don’t know why your mother objects to me, except that she doesn’t approve of the introduction of St. Joseph. I don’t know whether she’s said you’re not to see me again." That look of amazement in her eyes was a just and fair reward for his simple hazard. Girls of twenty-one have mothers--more’s the pity. He had only guessed it. And a mother who has a daughter of twenty-one has just reached that age when life lies in a groove and she would drag all within it if she could. She is forty-eight, perhaps, and knowing her husband as an obedient child knows its collect on a Sunday, she judges all men by him. Now, all men, fortunately for them, fortunately for everybody, are not husbands. Husbands are a type, a class by themselves; no other man is quite like them. They have irritating ways, and no wife should judge other men by their standards. When she would quarrel, theirs is the patience of Job. When she would be amiable, there is nothing to please them. They are seldom honest; they are scarcely ever truthful. For marriage will often bring out of a man the worst qualities that he has, as the washing-tub will sometimes only intensify the strain upon the linen. In the back of his mind, John felt the unseen judgment of some woman upon him, and from this very standpoint. When he saw the look of amazement in Jill’s eyes, he knew he was right. "Why do you look so surprised?" he said, smiling. "Because--well--why did you ask if you knew?" "Do you think I should ask if I didn’t know?" "Wouldn’t you?"