When he returned home, he found his mother seated by the table in the dining room. She hadn’t even attempted to clear the supper things away and he could not help but notice that her eyes were red and swollen with weeping. “Well, mother?” He tenderly touched her shoulder. “Yes, dear—yes.” She reached up and patted his hand. “I—I know you’re dreadfully disappointed. I—I’m _sorry_, mother.” Marjorie shook her head sadly. She must control herself before speaking. Howard moved a chair over opposite her and sat down. “You must give me a little time, Howard,” she said slowly. “This has all happened so suddenly—it is difficult for me to grasp.” “Well you expected me to marry—some day. Didn’t you, mother?” he asked gently. “Oh, yes, dear—yes!” she assured him. “I’ve always wanted you to marry and have a home—and babies—and—” Her sobs choked her, and she could not finish. “Perhaps. But you don’t like Katie! It’s true she hasn’t an education, but——” “It isn’t _that_,” she interrupted him. “I can’t hold the girl responsible for circumstances preventing her from obtaining one. It’s—it’s the difference!” “The difference?” “Yes,” she hurried on. “The great chasm—between you. You’re blinded by love now, dear, so you think that the only thing lacking in this girl you love is education, something one can always remedy to a certain extent. But it isn’t that. It’s the natural refinement, the inborn breeding, which go to constitute the lady. Those are the things she lacks. They are the things bound to raise a wall between you such as you will never be able to scale.” “But mother,” Howard attempted to argue, “real love should be able to overcome every obstacle, haven’t you always held that?” “Love could do a great deal, my son—if the break were only half or less than half way even. But you haven’t a thing in common with this girl. She is so entirely out of your class.” “And—just what do you call my class?” Howard asked, with the impatience of the youth suddenly become a man, to whom the stings of pain of two years past were still fresh. “A girl like Nell Thurston, I suppose,” he suggested bitterly, “a fair weather friend who at the first hint of trouble packs her trunks, leaves for California, and marries the first man she meets.” “You can’t judge every girl by that one.” “Well, nearly all of the society butterflies I ever met were of the same sort,” he answered scornfully. “Besides, I’m away from all that now. You know, we’re living an entirely different life from that of two years ago.” Marjorie Benton was at a loss for words. She felt that here was a situation that required the utmost diplomacy. She prayed for strength, but it came not. “Howard,” she asked slowly and thoughtfully, her eyes on her son’s face to lose no shade of expression. “Have you absolutely made up your mind to marry this—Katie Walsh?”