“When Dr. Lavender speaks, it is your subconscious self,” I maintained. Though she had not great physical vigor, Mrs. Deland has always been a hard worker. She had few friends and few relations; the whole force of her affection was concentrated on her husband, to whom she dedicated every book. I have never known any human affection quite like that between Margaret and her husband. He was a genial social man, with many friends, who liked his club and his business associates. He said to her one day: “Really, Margaret, if you had your way, we should pass every day of our lives alone together. This would not be good for either of us.” Lorin Deland was one of the few men who did not resent his wife’s greater reputation. He did not mind being spoken of as “the husband of Margaret Deland”, and was far prouder of her than she was of herself. He was a very lovable man, with a certain breadth of sympathy his wife lacked. He liked men, women, and children, while she preferred flowers and the “people with the green heads”! If Margaret had not been so successful as a writer, Lorin Deland would have written far more than he did. He has left two small volumes, both well worth reading, “Imagination in Business”, and a book of short stories, “At the Sign of the Dollar.” Of these tales, “Concerning X 107” is a true story of a young woman criminal, with a Jekyll and Hyde personality. Her life has been debased and vicious, but she is capable of the highest aspiration, as is shown by her poems. The story is of absorbing interest, beautifully conceived and written, but its greatest value is as a revelation of Lorin’s own nature. He had that true knightliness that hears and responds to every cry for help from the helpless. His work among forsaken women and girls was incessant and beneficent. This large-hearted man had no child, and the intense feeling of tenderness in him seemed to find its relief in helping the weakest of his kind. After his death a group of young girls to whom he had shown the tenderest care sent his wife a funeral wreath with this dedication: “He was the father of thousands of girls.” “You cannot let that inscription go as it is!” a friend said to Margaret. “Why not?” was the answer; then as an afterthought, “How Lorin would have laughed!” CHAPTER XIV THE NEW ORLEANS COTTON CENTENNIAL