"Of course I know that there are other points of view, and that from some of them oneself _to_ oneself is the most vital of all considerations. But in the detail of what other people think of one—" "Even when the other people are those of whom you think most in all the world?" "Let us think most of them then. Don’t let us think most about ourselves." "Do you suppose I’m thinking most about myself now? I assure you I’m not." She laughed again, not lightly, but rather pitifully. "I must leave you to judge of that." *CHAPTER IV* I did judge of it, all through that spring, coming more and more to the conclusion that I was right. It was not the only occasion on which Mildred Averill and I talked the matter over; but it became at last a subject on which agreeing to differ seemed our only course. The time came when I remembered with an inward blush that I had once feared that this clear-eyed, well-poised girl, who had really found herself, might be in love with me. What her exact sentiment toward me was I have never been able to name further than to put it under the head of a "deep interest." Had circumstances been in our favor that interest might at one time have ripened into something more; but from that she was saved by the instinct which told her that, in spite of my assertions, as to which she nevertheless didn’t charge me with untruth, I was a married man. One more detail I must add concerning her. On a Saturday afternoon in early May I had gone to her to talk over the great news of the day, that the peace terms had been handed to the enemy at Versailles. It must be remembered that she was the one person, outside my colleagues in the Museum, with whom I could discuss the topics nearest to my heart. With Pelly, Bridget, the Finn, and even with Miss Smith, I had friendly arguments as to the League of Nations and similar matters of public concern; but they rarely went beyond the catchwords of the newspapers. "My dear father," Miss Smith would say, gently, "who was an eminent oculist in his time, Doctor Smith, you may have heard of him, used to say that his policy was to keep this country out of entangling alliances. That was his expression, entangling alliances. I always think of it when I see foreigners." "From awl I hear," Bridget informed me, "this here League o’ Nations they make so much talk about is on’y to help the English to oppress Ireland." "Will it bring down prices?" the Finn demanded, if ever I spoke of it with him, and when I confessed that I couldn’t be sure that it would, he dismissed the theme with, "Then that’s all I want to know." "Punk, I call it," was Pelly’s verdict, "unless Lloyd George is for it; and whatever he says goes with me." This being the scope of my conversations on the subject it became a special pleasure to air my opinions with one who, while not always agreeing with me, took in such matters the same kind of interest as myself.