"Things!" she echoed, ignoring apparently both the tribute and the consolation proffered. "That is the word." She hugged her thought in silence for a moment as though fascinated. "When I was a girl there were no things to speak of; now--" she paused and sighed; evidently the vision which her spirit entertained disconcerted her powers of speech. "It is not that I wish my children to be rich--merely rich, Mr. Perry. You know that. It is that I wish them to be able to appreciate, to feel, to enjoy what is best in life. You spoke of the power of character just now. There is Mrs. Randolph Wilson. She has all the virtues of plain character and so much more besides. Compare her with a woman like me." "Mrs. Randolph Wilson!" His tone revealed his surprise at the antithesis. "I see. I see," he repeated, interested by the completeness of the contrast. "I owe so much to her," Constance murmured. "Before I knew her my outlook was so narrow and colorless. She has taught me to enrich my life, poor as it still is." "She is a fine woman. And yet, in my opinion, you need not fear comparison with Mrs. Wilson." "Oh, Mr. Perry!" She stopped short for an instant in recoil. The protesting astonishment of her exclamation showed him not only that he had violated a temple by his words, but that, as a consequence, she believed him insincere, which in her eyes would be a more grievous fault. "It is quite true," he said with decision. "You are very different; but it is quite true. Your outlook was narrow, perhaps, but it was clear and straight." "Oh, no. You do not know her, then, nor me. I tried to see clearly according to my lights, but that is just it--my lights were defective, and I saw only half the truth until she revealed it to me." "Mrs. Wilson has had great opportunities." "Yes, indeed. And she has taken advantage of them. Great opportunities!" she repeated with an exultant sigh. "They are what I had in mind a few minutes ago; not for myself, you know, but for my children. I envy--yes, I envy opportunities for them." Her voice had a quiver as though she were daring a confession to the sphinx-like stars. She had changed the emphasis of the dialogue, but Gordon pursued his tenor. "Her daughter has had every opportunity, yet her mother can scarcely regard her with pride." "I barely know Mrs. Waldo. It was just before her wedding that her mother was so kind to to me. I saw her once or twice at the house, but only for a moment." "At least she has made a mess of her marriage." Constance started. "It is true, then, what was in the newspapers?" "It is true that she and her husband have agreed to separate. It is an open secret that she has gone to Sioux Falls in order to obtain a divorce on a colorless ground in the shortest possible time. They will both be free in less than a year."