"If a man won't work he should not eat," she informed him as she proportioned his wage. Recalling Mary's position at home--though Trudy rejoiced in her own front room and the comforts of the household--she shrugged her shoulders in disapproval. Certainly she could never endure the same lot in life. For if one man will not love you why waste time bewailing the fact? Find another. Mary could have had other suitors. Mr. Tompkins, the city salesman, and young Elias, of Elias & Son, had both made brave attempts to plead their cause, only to be treated in the same firm manner that Luke was treated when he hinted of making off to sea. "She'll spend her life loving Steve O'Valley and slaving for him," Trudy had confided to her dozen intimate friends, who never repeated anything told them. "And he will spend his life being trampled on by Beatrice Constantine, and after they are married she will be meaner than ever to him. But he will love her all the more. Honest, business men make the grandest husbands! College professors are lots harder to get along with--but business men are as cross as two sticks in their offices and at home they're so sweet it would melt pig iron." The first plank in Trudy's platform was to marry a business man as nearly like Steve O'Valley as possible. The second was--whether or not she had a stunning home with brick fireplaces--never to spend her days hanging round them. Her most envied friend lived in New York, and her life was just one roof garden after another. She had everything heart could desire--Oriental rugs, a grandfather's clock, a mechanical piano, bird-of-paradise sprays for her hat, a sealskin ulster, and plenty of alimony. And in case said business man proved unsatisfactory Trudy had resolved to exchange him for unlimited legal support at the earliest possible opportunity. But she would not trespass upon Mary's platform, which consisted of loving Steve O'Valley yet knowing of his love for the Gorgeous Girl, as Mark Constantine had named his daughter. And of course Mary must have realized that though she might earn three thousand a year as private secretary she would eternally lock her desk at six o'clock and trudge home to her mother and the starched window curtains, watch Luke fall in love and scorn her advice, wash her hemstitched ruffles and black her boots, and keep her secret as she grew older and plainer of face!