I laughed, for I was used to cold water on my romance. “All the same,” insisted I, “Margot would envy us if she knew.” “She’d hate it,” Edna repeated. “She’s going to be an improvement on _us_.” “Not on you,” I protested. She looked at me with tender sparkling eyes, the same lovely light-brown eyes that had fascinated me as a boy. Brown eyes for a woman, always! But they must not be of the heavy commonplace shades of brown like a deer’s or a cow’s. They must have light shades in them, tints verging toward blue or green. Said Edna: “I’m doing my best to fit myself. And before I get through, Godfrey, I think I’ll go far.” “Sure you will,” said I, with no disposition to turn the cold douche on _her_ kind of romance. What an idiot I was about her, to be sure! I went on: “And I’ll see that you have the money to grease the toboggan slide and make the going easy.” She talked on happily and confidingly: “Yes, it’s best to leave Margot another year as a boarder at Miss Ryper’s. By that time we’ll be established over in New York, and we’ll have a proper place for her to receive her friends. And perhaps we’ll have a few friends of our own.” “Swell friends, eh?” “Please don’t say swell, dear,” corrected she. “It’s such a common word.” “I’ve heard _you_ say it,” I protested. “But I don’t any more. I’ve learned better. And now I’ve taught you better.” “Anything you like. Anybody you like,” said I. When Edna and I were together, with our hands clasped, I was always completely under her spell. She could do what she pleased with me, so long, of course, as she didn’t interfere in my end of the firm. And I may add that she never did; she hadn’t the faintest notion what I was about. They say there are thousands of American women in the cities who know their husbands’ places of business only as street and telephone numbers. My wife was one of that kind. Oh, yes, from the standpoint of those who insist that business and home should be separate, we were a model couple. “There’s another matter I want to talk over with you, Godfrey,” she went on. “That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing,” said I. “It goes so well with your skin and your hair.” She was delighted, and was moved to rise and look at herself in the long mirror. She gave herself an approving glance, but not more approving than what she saw merited. A long, slim beautiful figure; a dress that set it off. A lovely young tip-tilted face, the face of a girl with fresh, clear eyes and skin, the whitest, evenest sharp teeth--and such hair!--such quantities of hair attractively arranged. From herself she glanced at me. “No one’d ever think what we came from, would they?” said she fondly and proudly. “Oh, Godfrey, it makes me so happy that we _look_ the part. We belong where we’re going. The good blood away back in the family is coming out. And Margot-- I’ve always called her the little duchess--and she looks it and feels it.” Dreamily, “Maybe she will be some day.”