THE CHOICE
 
 THE CHOICE 
 
 BY 
 
 MAURICE WEYL 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 MITCHELL KENNERLEY 
 MCMXIX
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY MITCHELL KENNERLEY
 
 To my son Charles 
 
 for whose amusement 
 the story was written
 
 THE CHOICE 
 
 PART ONE 
 
 SUSAN 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A3NATH McBRIDE, at the age of eighteen, had 
 reached that happy stage in life's journey at 
 which she felt entitled to consider herself no 
 longer a child. No suspicion of the responsibility which 
 attaches even to the beginning of maturity had yet 
 crossed her mind. She was happy because she was 
 healthy. Her work, that of a telephone operator, was a 
 great delight to her even though, in speaking of it, she 
 referred to it as a form of drudgery to which she was 
 compelled by poverty. No, not poverty that condition 
 connoted something very like pauperism, dirt; every- 
 thing that was undesirable. 
 
 She would have resented being called "poor," although 
 she was given to saying it herself. But then, she said it 
 with a deprecating little smile which took all of the 
 humility out of the statement and left the hearer to 
 understand that the McBrides were really very superior 
 people whose circumstances, unfortunately, did not per- 
 mit of certain luxuries which rich people enjoyed or 
 rather submitted to because they really did not know 
 what to do with their money. 
 
 Asenath's father was a foreman in a packing-box fac- 
 
 6
 
 6 THE CHOICE 
 
 tory. A worthy man if ever there was one. His views of 
 life were casehardened. A stern Presbyterian, he had no 
 doubts as to what was right and what was wrong. He 
 used the Bible as the final guide, accepting its word, in 
 English, of course, as the definite pronouncement of the 
 Almighty. He never hesitated a single moment in 
 deciding the meaning of any injunction as an explicit 
 confirmation of any of his own prejudices. It was not so 
 much that he agreed with the Bible as that the Bible 
 invariably agreed with him. 
 
 Especially did the injunction as to the spoiling of 
 children by sparing the rod, and others emphasizing the 
 authority of the husband, appeal to him. Asenath's 
 childhood had been spent in fear of him, a fear built 
 upon actual application of the rod. 
 
 Asenath's mother likewise held her husband in awe. 
 In her case, she was a completely colorless person; her 
 dependence upon McBride for guidance in all things 
 made her life an extremely easy one, that is, mentally. 
 She never had to think about anything except the affairs 
 of her household and her dress. She took her life for 
 granted and was quite content to accept her husband's 
 opinions as completely final. 
 
 For Asenath, she was a mere servant in every way 
 except in matters which involved action contrary to the 
 rules of life laid down by the master of the household. 
 A skillful needlewoman, utterly devoid of taste in dress, 
 she was able, under Asenath's instructions, to make
 
 THE CHOICE 7 
 
 beautiful clothes for her. For Asenath knew how to 
 dress. She bought fashion magazines and was at no loss 
 to select the styles which were in vogue and, at the same 
 time, suited to her figure and coloring. 
 
 She feared her father and admired him in a way. Not 
 warmly, for his aloofness, due to his constant assump- 
 tion of superior virtue, made any affectionate regard 
 impossible. For her mother she entertained about the 
 quality of liking that would ordinarily be awakened by 
 a good cow, one who produced a regular amount of 
 excellent milk. She told her mother everything that 
 came into her head when they were together, not be- 
 cause she wanted her mother to know what she told her, 
 but because she wanted to tell somebody. 
 
 Mrs. McBride was utterly commonplace. She had 
 never been anything but diffident, and any lack of self- 
 confidence which may have marked her when she first 
 married was confirmed and increased by her husband's 
 complete self -sufficiency. In the early days of their mar- 
 riage, she once ventured an opinion on some small 
 matter, probably having been encouraged thereto by 
 some caress, but only once. On that occasion, McBride's 
 contempt was so evident and so painful that a repetition 
 of the experience was not to be thought of. 
 
 But this distinctly negative quality of Mrs. McBride 
 was as potent a factor in the formation of Asenath 's 
 character as the sternness of her father. Where the self- 
 effacement of her mother gave her assurance and confi-
 
 8 THE CHOICE 
 
 dence in herself, the aloofness and austerity of her 
 father gave her a wholesome respect for authority. 
 
 Of course, Asenath's character, like nearly every- 
 body's, was mostly born in her. The elements were hers, 
 but their growth in the direction in which they finally 
 were led was the result of her narrow life as a child and 
 an adolescent, and her later experiences in a world which 
 to her seemed very, very wide. Perhaps it really was. 
 
 - Card playing, dancing, the theatre were all anathema 
 in the McBride household. The chief joy of life was 
 church-going. Twice on every Sunday, Mr. McBride 
 and Asenath went to the Second Presbyterian Church to 
 attend services. Mrs. McBride went at least once every 
 Sunday and all three of them went to the Wednesday 
 evening prayer meeting. In addition, Asenath attended 
 Sunday School, and the whole family was present on 
 every other occasion for church activity, suppers, con- 
 certs, and so on. 
 
 The views of the senior McBrides on their relation to 
 religion undoubtedly offer a fertile field for interesting 
 speculation, but we shall not consider them. What 
 interests us is Asenath; not merely her views of the 
 church and religion generally, but rather the effect of 
 this constant association with church-going people in 
 her early youth upon her attitude towards life as she 
 grew older, and the results of this attitude as shown in 
 her actions. 
 
 Some of the incidents in her life are pressing for a
 
 THE CHOICE 9 
 
 place in this chronicle and it will not do to delay their 
 appearance much longer. It will be better, however, to 
 finish with the mention of certain facts of her childhood 
 which were potent factors in the formation of her views 
 of life, before actually beginning with the story. 
 
 Strange to say, Asenath's constant attendance at 
 church and Sunday School was without effect in making 
 her either devout or skeptical. She went as a pure matter 
 of course. The sermons she heard never reached her 
 brain and her Sunday School lessons were learned only 
 with her lips. The sole interest which she found in 
 church-going was social. She formed a few acquaint- 
 ances there, principally girls of about her own age. The 
 boys interested her very slightly. 
 
 This may have been dup to the fact that she was not 
 permitted to go out in the evenings, nor was she allowed 
 to have boys call on her. Once, when she was about fif- 
 teen, a boy walked home with her from Sunday School 
 and would have come into the house with her had it not 
 been that McBride opened the door for them and liter- 
 ally prevented the boy's entrance. 
 
 When Asenath was safely inside the house, her father 
 told her in no uncertain terms that he considered her too 
 young to associate with boys. Later, when she discussed 
 the matter with her mother, she received explicit instruc- 
 tions on the subject. Asenath offered no protest what- 
 ever. She was really not much interested. 
 
 She formed comparatively few acquaintances at
 
 10 THE CHOICE 
 
 school. Her father's strict instructions compelled her to 
 come home immediately the session was over. Conse- 
 quently, she had small opportunity to form friendships. 
 
 If her religious education was not accomplished by her 
 constant attendance at church and Sunday School, her 
 secular education was not much furthered by the public 
 school. Of course, she learned to read and write and she 
 acquired a slight acquaintance with arithmetic. What 
 she learned in other subjects never remained in her 
 mind after she had passed an examination. She learned, 
 not from interest, but by necessity. The necessity once 
 past, the matter dropped from her. 
 
 The only book which was ever read in the McBride 
 household was the Bible. Strictly speaking, even that 
 was not read, that is, used as literature. Its perusal, 
 one chapter at a time, was a work of duty. It was just 
 like their saying grace before meals, a matter of habit. 
 They did not really feel the gratitude to the Almighty 
 which they expressed. If they had ever thought about 
 it at all, they might possibly have been compelled to 
 admit that the act was one of propitiation solely. 
 
 But they did not think. Instead, they just read the 
 Bible regularly and said grace each day just as mechani- 
 cally as they ate their meals. 
 
 The newspaper was the one piece of literature which 
 illumined the family life. Both of Asenath's parents read 
 it. McBride read the headlines of the really important 
 news, occasionally reading the article under some head-
 
 THE CHOICE 11 
 
 line which interested him; but what gave him most 
 pleasure was the local news, the stories about people 
 with whose names he was familiar. He also read the 
 church news. 
 
 Mrs. McBride never could wait for the morning paper. 
 Naturally, she arose earlier than her husband, as she had 
 his breakfast to prepare. But McBride's breakfast never 
 received any attention until she had meticulously scruti- 
 nized the list of deaths. It was inevitable, with her 
 extremely limited number of acquaintances, that she 
 was rarely rewarded by reading the notice of the death 
 of anyone whom she knew or even had heard of. But she 
 persevered, hoping always. 
 
 Asenath never read the newspaper. She never read any- 
 thing for pleasure. She was compelled to do some little 
 reading in her school work, but she never had the oppor- 
 tunity to learn whether or not she had any taste for it. 
 
 She was a quiet child. She played with dolls in a 
 demure, silent way. She rarely spoke to the doll, so it 
 was impossible for anyone to determine how much illu- 
 sion there was for her in her play. As she grew older, she 
 helped in the work of the household to some extent, and 
 then, later, she took the position in the telephone 
 exchange. 
 
 What did interest her was her dress, her appearance. 
 Nearly all of her thought was centered on this one sub- 
 ject. Not through coquetry of any sort, because, up to 
 her eighteenth year at least, she was innocent of all
 
 12 THE CHOICE 
 
 forms of it, whether consciously or unconsciously. She 
 was extremely fastidious in every respect. No detail of 
 her toilet was glossed over. Both her person and her 
 attire were immaculate. And her care for her person 
 rested upon the most solid of foundations. 
 
 For Asenath was beautiful; not merely pretty, with 
 the charm which always attaches to youth. Her beauty 
 was of a more enduring quality, one which reaches its 
 full flowering with maturity. 
 
 No combination of words can describe any human 
 face. To say that her skin was wonderfully clear and 
 fair gives one idea; to say that her waving hair was a 
 deep, rich red gives another. Some impression of her 
 slenderness may be communicated by words, as is also 
 true of her height, which was slightly above medium; of 
 her tapering hands, of her narrow, aristocratic foot. 
 
 But these are mere details whose interrelation it is 
 impossible to visualize and, therefore, as description, 
 they are almost worthless. Fortunately, in Asenath's 
 case, it is possible to set forth a nearly perfect picture. 
 For Asenath resembled the well-known portrait of 
 Madame Vigee le Brun, that in which she has her child 
 in her arms. She had the same fine delicacy of feature, 
 the same lovely harmony of form. 
 
 Her gray eyes expressed candor, sincerity, spirituality. 
 Whether these characters were hers in actuality as well 
 as in the look she gave to the world, a study of her proxi- 
 mate adventures may disclose.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A3NATH liked her work from the very beginning. 
 She was fascinated by the mystery of the tele- 
 phone exchange, a fascination which happily re- 
 mained. She had no difficulty in mastering her work, for 
 she was neither nervous nor self-conscious. In addition, 
 she had a high co-ordination which made any muscular 
 activity easy. 
 
 But, more than by the work itself was she interested 
 in the girls with whom she became acquainted in the 
 exchange. They were drawn from the whole world. 
 They represented ideas and training which until then 
 were utterly foreign to her. It was very different from her 
 friends in the church. They were all more or less of the 
 samedrab, uninterestingtype. Those of them who hadin- 
 dividuality kept it for use elsewhere, and the rest of them 
 were just as significant intellectually as Asenath herself. 
 There was one girl in particular in the exchange who 
 attracted Asenath from the very beginning. Naturally, 
 she was of the type almost exactly opposite. She was 
 bright, vivacious, nervously quick in all of her actions. 
 She was short, dark, rather inclined towards plumpness. 
 She would have been rather homely had not the liveli- 
 ness of her expression lent her face charm. 
 
 It was at the lunch hour that they had their first talk. 
 Susan Collins, that was her name, had been struck with 
 
 13
 
 14 THE CHOICE 
 
 Asenath's beauty and, being one of those of her sex who 
 are subject to this appeal, she determined to become 
 acquainted. At the lunch hour this was easy. She simply 
 followed Asenath and took a seat next to her. 
 
 "How do you like it here?" she began. 
 
 "Very much," answered Asenath. 
 
 "Ever work before?" 
 
 "No," said Asenath. She would have been glad to add 
 something more, but she could not think of anything 
 to say. 
 
 "My name's Susan Collins," said that young lady 
 after a short pause. "What's yours?" 
 
 " McBride," answered Asenath. 
 
 "Just McBride?" queried the other. 
 
 "No; Asenath." 
 
 "Asenath! That's an odd name. I've never heard it. 
 Is it French?" 
 
 "I don't know. It's out of the Bible." 
 
 "Oh!" questioningly. "What part?" 
 
 "Asenath was Joseph's wife." 
 
 "Which Joseph?" 
 
 "The Joseph in the Old Testament." 
 
 The conversation lagged for a moment. Asenath 
 would have liked to continue it but knew not how. Susan 
 was readier. She began again. 
 
 "That's a sweet waist you've got on. Where did you 
 buy it?" 
 
 "My mother made it."
 
 THE CHOICE 15 
 
 "Oh! Did she? Where'd she get the pattern?" 
 
 "Out of the Delineator." 
 
 "Did she make your skirt, too?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I wish my mother could make things like that for 
 me. But she ain't got the time. There's four kids at 
 home, I'm the oldest, and she's got her hands full." 
 
 Asenath did not answer. She was enjoying the com- 
 panionship of Susan intensely. She wondered how it 
 could be possible for an utter stranger to find so much 
 to talk about. She did not resent being questioned. In 
 fact, she was not conscious that she was being catechised. 
 She wondered whether she might venture to say some- 
 thing about the Collins family, she didn't know quite 
 what. While she was silently thinking over this problem, 
 her face wore a smile which betokened her interest in her 
 questioner, as well as a real liking for her. 
 
 Susan waited only a little while for Asenath to say 
 something and then went on to ask: 
 
 " How many are there in your family? " 
 
 "Just papa, mamma and me." 
 
 "No wonder your mother can make your clothes. Do 
 you have to work?" 
 
 "Yes no I don't know what you mean." 
 
 " I mean do your folks need the money." 
 
 " I don't know, I give mamma my wages." 
 
 "What's your father do? Has he a business?" 
 
 "No. He's a foreman in Harrison & Magee's."
 
 16 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Where do you live?" 
 
 "On Bancroft Street near Porter." 
 
 "Oh! That's a lovely neighborhood. Your folks must 
 be rich." 
 
 "Oh no, we ain't; we're poor, of course not awful poor, 
 but, you know " 
 
 The conversation paused. Susan was very much 
 impressed with her companion. She was not conscious, 
 on her part, of the fact that the whole talk thus far had 
 been like taking testimony on the witness stand. The 
 closer she came to Asenath, the more beautiful she found 
 her. She could not have explained the reasons for her 
 great interest, but she felt it. After a short monologue, 
 treating of their lunch and the lunch room, she again 
 became personal. She said: 
 
 "You're awful pretty." 
 
 Asenath was delighted and uncomfortable at the 
 same time. She felt it incumbent upon her to make some 
 sort of disclaimer. 
 
 "Oh! no, I'm not," was the best she could do; "there's 
 lots of girls here who are much prettier." 
 
 "Rats," said Susan, "there ain't one in your class. 
 What does HE say about it?" 
 
 "He?" 
 
 "Yes; 'He,' you know what I mean?" 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "Ain't you got a fella?" 
 
 "No."
 
 THE CHOICE 17 
 
 "Honest?" 
 
 "Honest." 
 
 "How's that? Don't you like fellas?" 
 
 "I don't know any." 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 "Papa never let me go with any boys. He said I was 
 too young." 
 
 "But you ain't too young now, are you?" 
 
 "I guess not, but I don't know any except some boys 
 who go to our church." 
 
 "What's the matter with them?" 
 
 "Oh! I don't know. I don't like 'em." 
 
 "Do you ever talk to 'em?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I know a boy, he's a dandy fella; you'd be just crazy 
 about him and he's the kind that'd just fall for you. His 
 name's Tom Holland. He works down at the big saw 
 works, you know. He's awful liberal. If you go out 
 with him, you're sure to have a good time. He's no piker. 
 And funny! I just kill myself laughing at him. He always 
 goes with Bill Purton, they're chums; you never saw two 
 fellas that was as thick as they are. Bill's my fella. I'd 
 love you to meet them. My goodness, it's one o'clock 
 already. Back to the mines." 
 
 She got up and left. Asenath followed her. She had 
 never enjoyed herself more. Susan's breeziness, her 
 volubility were charming. She looked forward to their 
 next meeting with desire. This was life indeed.
 
 18 THE CHOICE 
 
 At her work during the whole afternoon, the under- 
 current of her mind carried the memory of this most 
 delightful adventure. For to Asenath this meeting was 
 an adventure. Dimly she felt that it was the beginning 
 of a new life, a life in which joy should have the master- 
 role. It seemed to her that she had now finally put off 
 childhood and had really become what she herself would 
 have called "a young lady." 
 
 These were not definite, clean-cut impressions, but 
 vague incidents of her sense of joy, her feeling of freedom 
 of emancipation from the yoke of her parents' authority. 
 It was not that she had ever been in active rebellion 
 against their decrees. On the contrary, she had been 
 quite content to accept their rulings because her imagi- 
 nation did not carry her beyond them. 
 
 She had not even chosen her position with the Tele- 
 phone Company. That was her father's choice. McBride's 
 most intimate friend had a daughter so employed and 
 his recommendation was so strong that Asenath was 
 simply told to apply for the position. McBride felt that 
 she would be sheltered, saved from contact with the mix- 
 ture of sexes common to most business offices. Asenath 
 made her application, was easily able to meet the require- 
 ments, as has already been told, and was promptly given 
 what was considered a desirable position for a beginner. 
 
 That evening as she helped her mother with the dishes, 
 she interrupted the placid flow of that lady's account of 
 the day's events by asking this startling question:
 
 THE CHOICE 19 
 
 "Mamma, ain't I old enough to have company?" 
 
 "What kind of company?" inquired Mrs. McBride, 
 with a reasonable show of caution. 
 
 "Boys," answered Asenath. 
 
 " What boys? " asked her mother, still on caution bent. 
 
 "Oh! No boys in particular. You know I don't know 
 any boys except them that come to Sunday School and 
 they make me sick." 
 
 "Well, if you don't know any boys to have for com- 
 pany, what makes you ask about it?" 
 
 " I was just thinking about it. Suppose I should get 
 an introduction to some nice fella. I'd feel awful cheap 
 if I couldn't ask him to call." 
 
 "That's so," assented her mother thoughtfully. "I'll 
 speak to your father about it." 
 
 Asenath did not press the matter further at that time. 
 Although it was of the greatest possible moment to her, 
 it did not prey on her mind. She was never ardent in any 
 pursuit. As much as anything in the world, at that 
 moment, did she desire her parents' recognition of the 
 fact that she was grown up, and she felt that there could 
 be no surer indication of it than the grant of liberty to 
 receive callers of the other sex. Having broached the 
 subject to her mother, and having that lady's promise to 
 discuss it with her husband, Asenath was entirely con- 
 tent to await further developments. And this waiting 
 wad unaccompanied by any thought of future action 
 based on either a favorable or an unfavorable reception
 
 20 THE CHOICE 
 
 of her petition. It was simply set aside until further 
 developments should call for renewed attention. 
 
 Mrs. McBride spoke to her husband on the subject 
 that night and, in the morning, communicated the 
 result to Asenath. 
 
 "Your father says it'll be all right for you to have 
 boys come to see you, only they must be somebody he 
 knows." 
 
 Asenath was taken aback. She felt that she was 
 "grown up" and entitled to choose for herself. This did 
 not seem fair. 
 
 "But, mamma," she said, "suppose I get an intro- 
 duction to a boy who's all right and papa don't know 
 him; what good does it do?" 
 
 "That's so," answered Mrs. McBride. She was per- 
 plexed. There seemed to be something not quite right 
 about the matter as it stood, but she was unable to see 
 just what it was. In speaking with her husband, his pres- 
 entation of the case had seemed perfectly clear and 
 convincing. 
 
 "I can't invite him," Asenath went on, "and if he 
 can't come here, how is papa going to find out if he's all 
 right?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "I couldn't tell him I'd like to have him come only 
 my father won't let me ask him because he don't know 
 him, could I?" 
 
 "No, I guess not," answered Mrs. McBride, doubt-
 
 THE CHOICE 21 
 
 fully. And then she was seized with an inspiration. 
 "Assy," she said, "what's the use bothering about this? 
 You don't know anyone you want to invite, so you might 
 as well wait until you do." She delivered herself of this 
 with an air of finality which betokened her complete 
 satisfaction with her solution of the problem. 
 
 But Asenath was not satisfied. What she wanted was 
 a recognition of her right as a "grown-up" to cast off 
 the parental leading strings. She did not know just what 
 answer to make to her mother. It did not occur to her 
 that the fact that she was at work and was contributing 
 her pay to the family exchequer might give her some 
 right to a voice in her own affairs. She had a somewhat 
 vague sense that she was being treated unjustly, but no 
 words came to her to formulate it. So she let the matter 
 drop out of their present conversation.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE friendship between Asenath and Susan 
 ripened with extraordinary rapidity. They were 
 together every day at lunch, and, in a few days, 
 Susan was acquainted with every detail of Asenath's 
 life for which her imagination had found questions. 
 Asenath had answered every one of them with perfect 
 candor, so much pleased with the intimacy of their com- 
 panionship that reserve of any kind never occurred to 
 her. Asenath had never before had a real friend, or 
 what she thought was a real friend, which, after all, 
 amounts to the same thing. 
 
 It never occurred to her to ask Susan any questions of 
 either a personal or a general nature. In the first place, 
 her curiosity was not sufficiently specific, and in the 
 second, it was not necessary. Susan was not at all reti- 
 cent. She told of her life with the same freedom that she 
 displayed in questioning Asenath. And so, without any 
 effort, Asenath learned much about the Collins family, 
 which she found interesting in a general way, and a 
 great deal more concerning Susan's relations with the 
 other sex, which she found absorbing in the highest 
 degree. Susan, it may be observed, did not consider her- 
 self to be subject to strict accuracy in her accounts, 
 whether they dealt with family life or her "fellas." With 
 regard to the latter, she was careful to suppress certain 
 
 22
 
 THE CHOICE 23 
 
 details which she felt might produce some unnecessary 
 shock to the sensibilities of so unsophisticated a person 
 as Asenath. 
 
 Susan had not shown much surprise when she learned 
 that Asenath was not permitted to receive young men 
 as callers unless they were acquaintances of McBride. 
 She did not receive callers herself. In the first place, the 
 Collins household was not an ideal place for a young 
 lady to receive them, and, in the second, Susan's friends 
 generally met her by appointment outside. Her social 
 standards were not difficult in this respect. 
 
 For some reason or other Susan held Asenath some- 
 what in awe. While she would never have admitted it 
 to anyone, in her own mind she felt that Asenath was 
 her superior in the social scale. She represented a certain 
 amount of family solidarity and family pride which 
 Susan felt rather than imagined. Susan's family "camped 
 out" in the World. There was no strong tie binding its 
 members. 
 
 Asenath completely charmed Susan. She was attracted 
 by her beauty to begin with, and interested also by a 
 certain evasive quality in Asenath which persisted in 
 spite of her seeming utter frankness in answering all of 
 Susan's pointed questions. No matter what effort Susan 
 made to learn all about her new friend, there seemed 
 always something more which no questioning would 
 bring out. 
 
 Her admiration of Asenath made her anxious to have
 
 24 THE CHOICE 
 
 some of her friends meet her. She wanted the satisfac- 
 tion that the confirmation of her preference would bring 
 and the further satisfaction that she would have in intro- 
 ducing a girl to them whom they would describe as a 
 "real queen." This title for Asenath, by the way, had 
 occurred to Susan almost at once, and she had promptly 
 called her "Queenie" and always so addressed her. 
 
 Without disclosing her intention to Asenath, Susan 
 had arranged with Tom Holland to have him await their 
 departure from the telephone exchange one evening 
 shortly after their acquaintance first began. 
 
 It had been a mild spring day, just warm enough to 
 bring assurance that winter was really past. And now, in 
 the twilight, there was still a balmy quality in the breeze, 
 although, with the approach of dusk, it had become 
 much cooler. 
 
 Asenath and Susan had walked only half a block 
 when the latter espied Tom Holland standing at the 
 corner of the next street. 
 
 "Why! There's Tom Holland," she said with an air 
 of surprise. 
 
 Asenath looked up and perceived a young man of 
 about twenty-one or two. She did not notice that he 
 was rather an unhealthy looking specimen, somewhat 
 pimply, with weak, characterless features. She did not 
 take account of his colorless hair, his cheap clothes, 
 which bore the unmistakable stamp of the flashy ready- 
 made variety, in their extravagant attempt at modish-
 
 THE CHOICE 25 
 
 ness. She saw only the Tom Holland of Susan's descrip- 
 tion, the dashing cavalier, generous with purse and 
 entertainment, the humorist, the "dandy fella." 
 
 As they approached him, he turned towards them, a 
 smile of recognition on his face. 
 
 "Hello, Kid," he said, addressing Susan. 
 
 "Hello, Tom," she answered as they came up. "Meet 
 my friend, Miss McBride." 
 
 "Happy to meet you," said Tom. Asenath did not 
 say anything, but smiled sweetly and held out her hand. 
 
 "Where are you going?" asked Susan, keeping up the 
 pretense of an accidental meeting. Actually, what she 
 said sounded like "we'ere-ye-goin," but, since anattempt 
 to spell the sounds she made phonetically would cause 
 great difficulty in reading her remarks, we shall write 
 instead the words that she supposed she was uttering. 
 We shall follow the same course with the speeches of the 
 others. 
 
 "Nowhere in particular," answered Tom. "I'll walk 
 along with you, if you don't mind." 
 
 "Surest thing you know," said Susan to him, and then 
 turning to Asenath, "How about it, Queenie?" 
 
 "All right," said Asenath, "but I'm only going two 
 blocks further. I take the car there, you know." 
 
 "You mean your motor, don't you?" asked Tom. 
 
 Susan laughed in appreciation of his humor, but 
 Asenath said: 
 
 "No, the trolley."
 
 26 THECHOICE 
 
 Tom was not sure whether or not Asenath was putting 
 the joke on him. He concluded promptly that she was 
 and said: 
 
 "You're a pretty good little kidder yourself, ain't 
 you?" 
 
 Asenath smiled demurely. No one had ever said any- 
 thing like this to her before, so she made no other 
 acknowledgment of what was obviously intended as a 
 compliment. 
 
 " I guess you don't care for dancing," hazarded Tom. 
 
 "I love it," answered Asenath, "but I don't know 
 much about it yet. I've only tried it a couple of times." 
 
 Susan had been teaching her some steps at lunch 
 time and had found her an extraordinarily apt pupil. 
 
 " How'd you like to go out with me some evening this 
 week and try it?" 
 
 "I'd love to," answered Asenath, "but I don't know 
 if I could get permission." 
 
 Susan broke in here, "Don't go rushing her, Tom. 
 Wait until I've been up to her house. I'll fix it with her 
 dad. Won't I, Queenie?" 
 
 "I hope so," answered Asenath. "Oh! There's my car. 
 Good-bye," and away she ran. 
 
 "What do you think of her?" Susan asked. 
 
 "She's some kid. She's a peacherino," answered Tom. 
 "She's a winner. Gee! but she's got style." 
 
 "Yes, and don't you get fresh with her, either. She 
 ain't that kind. She's a lovely girl, the kind it does you
 
 THE CHOICE 27 
 
 good to know. She don't say much, but she thinks a lot. 
 You can learn good manners from her." 
 
 "Oh! I don't know," said Tom in a tone evidencing 
 complete self-satisfaction. He was not noted for humil- 
 ity. He was in no doubt whatever as to his qualifications 
 as a squire of dames. At twenty-one or two, one is apt 
 not to underestimate one's attractions for the fair. 
 He did not enjoy even the slight tinge of criticism 
 which was implied in Susan's remark and his manner 
 showed it. 
 
 "Now, don't get sore," said Susan, "you ain't such a 
 much. There are others. When did you see Bill last?" 
 
 "This morning," answered Tom. "He's got to work 
 tonight." 
 
 "Honest? That's the third time in a week. He'd 
 better get another job. Well, so long, here's my car." 
 And she left him. 
 
 Asenath believed that she admired Tom Holland. 
 Certainly she had enjoyed the few minutes she had 
 spent in his company and she looked forward to meeting 
 him again with more interest than she had ever had in 
 anything which had come into her life. She was much 
 impressed by his evident admiration and found it very 
 sweet. Vaguely, she wondered how Susan was going to 
 secure permission for her to go out in the evening, but 
 no solution of the problem came to her. She had, how- 
 ever, no doubt as to Susan's ability to do anything. She 
 rated Susan on the basis of that young woman's ready
 
 28 THE CHOICE 
 
 professions. She had never met anyone who was so 
 voluble. She would have pronounced Susan brilliant if 
 she had known the word in this connection. 
 
 Susan's scheme was simplicity itself and did great 
 credit to her perspicacity. 
 
 The very next evening Susan, on her own invitation, 
 went home to supper with Asenath. Mrs. McBride wel- 
 comed her and the head of the family suffered her in 
 silence until the first edge of his fine appetite was worn 
 off. Then he asked: 
 
 "What church do you attend?" 
 
 "Why, Mr. McBride, I'm ashamed to tell you that we 
 don't go to any." Susan acted her shame well. It was 
 overdone in no particular. 
 
 " Do you mean that none of you ever go to church at 
 all?" asked Mr. McBride, sternly. 
 
 "No; not altogether," answered Susan. "Mother has 
 gone once or twice since I've been old enough to take 
 notice. She'd go all right, but my father won't let her. 
 I'd love to go; I don't think it's right to grow up without 
 any religion. I would go, too, but I don't know where to 
 go. I'd feel strange going into a church where I didn't 
 know anybody." 
 
 Mr. McBride was much interested. Here was good 
 work ready for his hand. 
 
 "What is your name?" he asked. 
 
 "Sue Susan," she answered. "Susan Collins." 
 
 "Well, Susan, how would you like to come to our
 
 THE CHOICE 29 
 
 church the Second Presbyterian, Halstead and Prince 
 Streets." 
 
 "Oh! I'd love to." 
 
 "Well, come Sunday, day after tomorrow. You be 
 here at half-past ten and go with us.*' 
 
 And so it was arranged and so was it carried out. 
 Susan was on hand promptly. She walked to church 
 with McBride and Asenath. McBride improved the 
 occasion to air his views. He was stimulated to extraor- 
 dinary efforts by the evident sympathy and appreciation 
 of his listener. Susan's attention to the services and her 
 demeanor throughout the morning completely won him. 
 He asked her, nay, insisted that she go home to dinner 
 with them and return to Sunday School in the afternoon 
 with Asenath. Susan accepted with a show of reluctance 
 she was far from feeling. Actually she was enjoying 
 herself immensely not her attendance at church and 
 Sunday School on account of any great interest in either, 
 but she enjoyed the evident success of her acting. 
 
 At the dinner table it was an easy matter for Susan 
 to obtain McBride's consent for a visit from Asenath 
 to Susan's house. He was so much pleased with his 
 success in "rescuing a brand from the burning" that he 
 would actually have trusted his convert with anything.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 SUSAN did not make a definite appointment for 
 Asenath's visit to her at the time that the per- 
 mission was granted. She did not want to appear 
 to have any ulterior motive in her association with the 
 McBride family. She wanted, besides, to make so sure 
 of McBride's confidence in her that he would not be 
 ready to believe anyone who might be moved to say 
 something in her disfavor. And then, she actually 
 enjoyed her conquest of McBride, in which there was 
 not a little coquetry. After all, he was a man and there- 
 fore to be won. 
 
 On Wednesday evening and again on Sunday she 
 appeared at church. Her tact won for her much favor- 
 able notice, and quite a number of the regular attend- 
 ants made her acquaintance and liked her. Although she 
 did not lose sight of her original object, she began to feel 
 the great social advantage the church offered and found 
 herself looking forward with pleasure to becoming a 
 regular attendant. 
 
 On the second Tuesday after her first visit to McBride's, 
 Asenath was to go to Collins' for the evening meal. At 
 least, that was what had been announced, and was what 
 Asenath believed. It was understood that she was to be 
 home early. Susan had not told her anything more than 
 she expected they would see Tom and Bill, with which 
 
 30
 
 THE CHOICE 31 
 
 information Asenath was much pleased. She did not tell 
 her mother of this aspect of the evening's entertain- 
 ment, because she knew she would discuss it with her 
 husband and she could not determine whether he might 
 not offer objections. But it was only for a moment that 
 she even considered mentioning it to her mother. It 
 opened up too many possibilities and would have called 
 for an amount of contemplation which Asenath would 
 have found tedious. It was ever so much more comfort- 
 able to let things happen than to think about them. 
 
 Directly after she and Susan had left the telephone 
 exchange on Tuesday evening, they met the two boys. 
 William Purton was a rather heavy, serious-looking 
 young man of about twenty-two. He was quite the 
 opposite of his friend Holland in appearance. He looked 
 to be more nearly mature. There was no suggestion of 
 speed in any part of his visible make-up. He acknowl- 
 edged his introduction to Asenath with a friendly nod, 
 while, on her part, a smile and an outstretched hand 
 completed the ceremony. 
 
 The quartet promptly broke up into pairs, Tom and 
 Asenath in the lead, and walked down the street. At the 
 first crossing, Tom said: 
 
 " What do you say to.taking in a 'movie' until supper? ' ' 
 
 "All right," answered Asenath. 
 
 They waited for the others to come up. Tom made the 
 proposal to them also and it was immediately accepted. 
 
 The picture they saw told a highly improbable story,
 
 32 THE CHOICE 
 
 one in which the very special morality of the scenario 
 was strongly emphasized, a morality Jesuitical in the 
 extreme, in its constant approval of any means which 
 might procure the desired end. But to Asenath, who had 
 seen very little of moving pictures, had read no books, 
 and whose actual experiences of life were limited both 
 by circumstance and the quality of her imagination, the 
 story was real and the illusion complete. She was so fas- 
 cinated, so thoroughly held by the picture that she was 
 scarcely aware that Tom had taken hold of her hand. 
 A sudden break in the film, with its shock of surprise, 
 brought it fully into her consciousness and then, before 
 she had a chance to act with purpose, she withdrew it 
 from his clasp sharply. 
 
 No sooner had she done so than she was sorry. She 
 found that she liked to have him hold her hand. But, 
 even in the face of this discovery, Asenath was so consti- 
 tuted that she could not make a new beginning in this 
 or, in fact, any other direction. As for Tom, he was 
 sure that the sudden withdrawal meant displeasure on 
 Asenath's part and, in her presence, for some reason 
 which he could not explain, his ordinary assurance was 
 much less than usual. 
 
 They sat through the picture without any further 
 advances from Tom. Occasionally he would whisper 
 some remark, intended to be facetious, concerning the 
 characters and incidents on the screen, but Asenath 
 scarcely heard him.
 
 THE CHOICE 33 
 
 When the hero and heroine of the picture, locked in a 
 close embrace, finally faded from sight, the quartet left 
 the theatre. In the street, there was a short discussion as 
 to where they would eat, and it was then, for the first 
 time, that Asenath learned that they were not to eat at 
 Collins'. The idea of going to a restaurant delighted her, 
 for her experience of them was practically nil, and her 
 pleasure was in no way diminished when she learned 
 that the choice finally rested on a cheap lunch place in 
 which various kinds of griddle-cakes appeared to be of 
 the greatest importance in the menu, a conclusion based 
 upon the fact that they were cooked in the show window 
 by a man attired in spotless white. 
 
 The choice having been made, the party again broke 
 up into couples and walked down the street. Asenath 
 was with Tom. Conversation began immediately. Tom 
 said: 
 
 "Wasn't that fellow a nut to let himself get all tied 
 up like that? If he'd a thought for a minute, he'd a been 
 on to the villain's game." 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath, but she did not agree with him. 
 To her the hero of the story was simply perfect. 
 
 "Well, I ain't crazy about those kind of pictures, 
 anyway. I like Charlie Chaplin, don't you?" 
 
 "No, I don't," answered Asenath, firmly. 
 
 "Honest? Why, I kill myself laughing at Charlie. 
 Why don't you like him?" 
 
 "Oh! He acts so crazy."
 
 34 THE CHOICE 
 
 "But don't you think he's a scream? Don't you 
 laugh at him?" 
 
 "Of course, I laugh at him; you can't help it, he's so 
 simple. But I don't like him." 
 
 "I can't see that. Don't you like to laugh?" 
 
 This was a hard question, much more difficult than 
 either of them imagined. 
 
 "Yes, I like to laugh," said Asenath after a brief 
 pause, "but I don't like Charlie Chaplin." 
 
 They had reached the restaurant by this time and 
 Asenath was saved from the necessity of explaining the 
 inconsistency of her last remark. 
 
 They were very jolly during the meal, that is, all but 
 Asenath. She did not participate in the good natured 
 banter which formed their table talk. Even though she 
 made no contribution to the general gaiety, she enjoyed 
 herself thoroughly and joined in their good humored 
 laughter rather through sympathy than because of her 
 understanding of their sallies. Much of their talk con- 
 cerned matters entirely outside of her experience. Once, 
 when Tom ventured a little beyond the bounds of strict 
 decency in one of his allusions, Susan cut him short with 
 a meaning look. Her caution, however, was quite unnec- 
 essary, for it was all going quite over Asenath's head. 
 
 After supper, dancing was proposed and it was sug- 
 gested that they go to McGoverns', where Tom said 
 they could have a private room with a Victrola and do 
 just what they liked. This was perfectly satisfactory to
 
 THECHOICE 35 
 
 Asenath, who was utterly without any standards to 
 guide her. 
 
 They left the restaurant and walked a few blocks to 
 McGoverns'. 
 
 This proved to be a large saloon with a number of 
 private rooms on the second floor. They chose a room of 
 fair size which contained a Victrola, moved the table 
 from the centre of the room, and, in response to the 
 waiter's inquiry as to what they would have to drink, 
 entered into a discussion of this question. The two boys 
 promptly decided for high-balls and Susan chose a dry 
 Martini. Asenath made no choice at all. 
 
 "What would you like, Queenie?" asked Susan. 
 
 "I don't know what to take," answered Asenath. 
 " Oh ! Yes, I like Sarsaparilla." She called it Sassaparella. 
 
 "Oh! You don't want that stuff," said Susan. "Order 
 a Bronx." 
 
 "What's a 'Bronx'?" asked Asenath. 
 
 " It's a cocktail," answered Susan. 
 
 Asenath had heard of cocktails but had no clear idea 
 of what they might be. Her knowledge of intoxicating 
 drinks was, naturally, extremely limited. She knew that 
 beer, whisky, wine and rum were such things, particu- 
 larly rum. She had seen drunken men and women and 
 knew in a vague way how they became so, but the whole 
 matter was so far removed from her own life that it 
 possessed no interest or curiosity for her. None of the 
 names of the drinks ordered by the others was familiar
 
 36 THE CHOICE 
 
 to her and, therefore, she had no idea of what they might 
 be or indeed that they were in the classification of 
 strong drink. 
 
 So, when she heard Susan's unenlightening definition 
 of a Bronx, she nodded her acquiescence, and the waiter 
 departed. She was in a state of complete contentment 
 and was ready to accept anything which seemed to 
 form part of the evening's entertainment. 
 
 The Victrola was put into action and they danced. 
 Tom found that Asenath had indeed profited by her 
 practice with Susan. She danced as naturally as she 
 breathed. He was delighted and she tasted joy such as 
 she had never known. 
 
 When Asenath put the cocktail to her lips, she was not 
 sure that its taste was agreeable. A second sip proved to 
 be more palatable and the third was distinctly pleasant. 
 She was thirsty and felt much refreshed when she had 
 drunk all of it. She wanted to dance again, and the others 
 were quite willing. 
 
 They put on another record and began again. And 
 then another. After this, Asenath suggested that they 
 dance again immediately. 
 
 "Oh! Let's rest a bit," said Susan. 
 
 "Tom," said Asenath, addressing him by name for 
 the first time, "let's you and I dance then." She was 
 conscious of something new in her, a quality of initiative, 
 a recklessness she had never known. She was deliriously 
 happy. Everything was blotted out of her mind save
 
 THE CHOICE 37 
 
 only her present joy. She, the most undemonstrative 
 person imaginable, wanted to sing. And she did hum the 
 tune as they danced together. Tom was clasping her 
 very closely. He held the fingers of her right hand gripped 
 tightly, and Asenath returned the pressure without 
 knowing it. 
 
 And then she felt herself becoming dizzy. She closed 
 her eyes and the whole room seemed to be turning about 
 her. She felt that she would have fallen were it not for 
 the support of Tom's arms. 
 
 When they stopped dancing, Tom led her to a window. 
 He stood with his arm about her waist, her head resting 
 on his shoulder. She began to feel sick; a sensation of 
 nausea was coming over her which she struggled to mas- 
 ter. And, just then Tom made a movement. 
 
 She knew instantly that he was going to kiss her, and 
 she wanted him to do it. He took his arm from her 
 waist and, holding her face in both of his hands, brought 
 it towards his slowly. 
 
 And then, a sudden violent wave of nausea over- 
 whelmed her. She felt that in one instant more she 
 would be unable to control herself, and, breaking from 
 him, she ran away, out of the room, down the stairs, up 
 the brilliantly illuminated street until she came to a 
 dark alley. 
 
 When Asenath had recovered her physical equilib- 
 rium, she was overcome by a fearful sense of shame. 
 She felt that she was forever disgraced in the eyes of her
 
 38 THE CHOICE 
 
 companions. She was sure that they would not wish to 
 have anything more to do with her. It was impossible 
 for her to blame them for their attitude, or what she 
 believed must be their attitude. 
 
 If she had attempted to state precisely just what she 
 had done to incur their displeasure, she would have 
 found it impossible. But no clear-cut statement would 
 have been one iota more convincing than the emotion 
 which mastered her. 
 
 For one brief moment she entertained the idea of 
 rejoining her companions. But it was only for a moment. 
 She felt that she would have to make some explanation, 
 and that she could not do. She did not know what to 
 explain. It certainly would never do just to say that she 
 had felt sick and had run away because she could not 
 think of anything else to do. That would be too babyish, 
 quite unsuited to what she looked upon as the complete 
 maturity of Susan and the two boys. At any rate, they 
 were probably glad, now, that she had so soon shown 
 her unfitness to associate with them. 
 
 Well, there was nothing to be done but to go home. 
 Susan would undoubtedly bring the light jacket, which 
 Asenath had left behind her in her flight, to the tele- 
 phone exchange the next morning. Asenath had no need 
 of its, protection, for the evening was quite mild; it was 
 the latter part of May, and going through the streets 
 without it would not attract any attention. Still, she did 
 not care to get into a car and, therefore, walked home.
 
 THE CHOICE 39 
 
 As she walked, she tried to decide upon the form that 
 her apology to Susan would take if, indeed, her friend 
 would listen to her at all. No more difficult problem had 
 ever presented itself to Asenath and, try as she would, 
 no suitable solution offered itself.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 WHEN Asenath made her sudden break from 
 Susan and the two boys, the whole trio were 
 too much surprised to make any immediate 
 comment. 
 
 Tom was the first to find speech. He said: 
 
 "Well, I call that pretty raw." 
 
 Susan was up in arms at once. She was furious. 
 
 "Raw!" she almost shouted. "Raw! If there's any- 
 body that's raw, it's you, Tom Holland. It just serves 
 me right. Introducing a lady like Queenie to a bum like 
 you. Yes, bum, that's what you are. You've got no more 
 idea of how to act with a lady than I don't know what. 
 I told you not to rush her, but, you poor fish, you think 
 that every girl's just ready to fall for you and so you 
 behave just as though you'd picked her off the street." 
 
 She paused for breath, and taking advantage of the 
 opportunity, Purton began: 
 
 "Say, Sue, it ain't all Tom's fault. Didn't she" 
 
 But he got no further. Susan interrupted him with 
 renewed fury. 
 
 "That's right. Stick up for him. I guess you're no 
 better than he is. I'm done with you. Both of you. 
 Don't you ever dare to talk to me again. If I see you on 
 the street, I won't know you. You can both go to Hell, 
 for all I care." 
 
 40
 
 THE CHOICE 41 
 
 And Susan picked up both her own and Asenath's 
 jacket and strode out of the room. 
 
 She took a car for McBride's house and, naturally, 
 arrived there before Asenath. She rang the bell three 
 times without effect, and then, judging correctly that 
 both Mr. and Mrs. McBride may have gone out for a 
 short while, she sat on the step and waited. 
 
 She was calmer now and in no doubt as to what she 
 would say to Asenath, providing, of course, that she 
 would be willing to listen to her. She hoped that hi some 
 way she could repair the breach that she felt had 
 undoubtedly been made in their friendship. She was sure 
 that she had done a very wrong thing in introducing a 
 girl of Asenath's refinement and intelligence to a boy 
 like Tom Holland, about whose ideas with regard to 
 what he slangily designated as "skirts" Susan had no 
 illusions. She felt that her real intention had been one of 
 kindness. She had only wished to show Asenath a little 
 bit of fun and had imagined that Tom would have appre- 
 ciated the difference between Asenath and the girls with 
 whom he ordinarily consorted, and not transcend the 
 limits of decent behavior. 
 
 Susan learned in those moments of doubt as to the 
 continuance of her friendship with Asenath just how 
 much that friendship meant to her. She could not have 
 explained it, but she knew that she wanted this above 
 all things. 
 
 While she was turning this matter over hi her mind
 
 42 THE CHOICE 
 
 for perhaps the twentieth time, she saw Asenath com- 
 ing slowly up the street. Asenath saw her at the same 
 moment and would have hurried towards her, but she 
 was utterly unprepared for the meeting. It was so com- 
 pletely unexpected that she was as near panic as she 
 had ever been. She felt that she must say something in 
 explanation of her flight and she had been unable to 
 think of anything satisfactory. 
 
 But with Susan it was quite different. She jumped 
 up from the step and ran toward Asenath. 
 
 "Oh! Queenie!" she cried, "I'm so sorry. I had no 
 idea that Tom Holland would act so raw. I just stayed 
 one minute after you left, and then I gave him an ear- 
 ful. Him and Bill, too. I'm done with them for keeps. 
 I ought to have known better than to introduce you to 
 a couple of fellas like them. They're not your kind and 
 they ain't going to be my kind after this. I've told them 
 they're cut out by me for good and all. Oh! Queenie, 
 will you ever forgive me?" And Susan looked anxiously 
 at her friend for some sign that her plea had been favor- 
 ably received. 
 
 Asenath was nonplused. She simply could not under- 
 stand. It would appear from what Susan had said that 
 she had done nothing to estrange Susan. On the con- 
 trary it was she who was begging Asenath's pardon. 
 
 She could not concur in Susan's condemnation of the 
 two boys. To Asenath they had seemed very nice and 
 it was with a pang of regret that she recognized that
 
 THECHOICE 43 
 
 the turn affairs had taken would rob her of the oppor- 
 tunity for further meetings. She did not know what to 
 say, try as she would to find something. So she walked 
 along with Susan to the house without answering. 
 
 Susan was a bit disconcerted by Asenath's silence, 
 taking it as an indication that her friend's feelings had 
 been too deeply wounded to permit of instant forgive- 
 ness. She waited for a little while and then could hold 
 her peace no longer. 
 
 "You're not really mad at me, are you, Queenie?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " Why, no," answered Asenath. " I was only thinking." 
 
 "Thinking about what?" asked Susan. 
 
 "Oh! Just thinking. You brought my coat, didn't 
 you?" 
 
 There was no mistaking the friendliness of the tone. 
 Susan was delighted. 
 
 "Yes, here it is." 
 
 They had reached the door of the McBride house by 
 this time. 
 
 "I rang the bell three times," said Susan, "but 
 nobody answered." 
 
 "Oh! I guess mamma went over to Aunt Emma's and 
 this is papa's lodge night. Mamma will likely be back 
 soon." 
 
 "Would you like me to wait until she comes home?" 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath, "or we could go over to Aunt 
 Emma's. She lives 'round the corner."
 
 44 THE CHOICE 
 
 Just then they espied Mrs. McBride turning the 
 corner. Susan said: 
 
 "I wouldn't say anything about what happened." 
 
 "All right," answered Asenath, " I won't." 
 
 "Just tell her we went home to supper and then 
 walked back here. You can make up enough to keep her 
 from getting on, can't you? " 
 
 " I guess so," said Asenath. 
 
 Mrs. McBride had come up to them by this time and 
 they exchanged greetings and a little talk in which the 
 clever Susan told the tale of their doings that she wished 
 Mrs. McBride to believe, including an apology for the 
 meal which Asenath was supposed to have been offered. 
 She took advantage of this apology to give the alleged 
 menu in detail, scenting that this would be a most 
 natural question for Mrs. McBride to ask. When she 
 left them, it was with the promise to meet them at 
 church the following evening. 
 
 Asenath was thus saved the necessity of inventing 
 any story, a task which would have exceeded her powers. 
 And Mrs. McBride's curiosity as to the visit to Collins' 
 having been thus satisfied, she was left free to talk of 
 what she had in her mind while Asenath listened 
 silently, her thoughts busy with her delightful expe- 
 riences up to the moment of her flight. 
 
 Susan had gone to church at first merely to secure 
 McBride's good will. But, as has been mentioned, she 
 had not been slow to perceive what a powerful social
 
 THE CHOICE 45 
 
 agency the church was. She made friends rapidly 
 because she had a pleasing address. She was friendly 
 without appearing forward. Her ready tongue was not 
 often used to make the less articulate uncomfortable. 
 She was willing, nay, anxious to please, and she found 
 in the young folks who attended the church quite a 
 number who had taken a fancy to her. 
 
 On the Wednesday evening following, she had been 
 invited to visit one of the girls and had accepted. She 
 did not have a chance to tell Asenath of it that evening, 
 for the McBrides, contrary to their usual custom, left 
 immediately after the services were over. McBride was 
 suffering from a bilious attack and wanted to get home 
 as soon as possible. 
 
 At lunch on Thursday Susan said to Asenath: 
 
 "You know May Wilson." 
 
 "Sure," said Asenath. 
 
 "Do you like her?" 
 
 "She's all right. I've never talked much to her." 
 
 "She asked me to come to see her at her house." 
 
 Asenath said nothing. So Susan went on. 
 
 "If I go, will you go with me?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Asenath. She was so fond of Susan 
 that she would have been willing to go anywhere with 
 her. "When are you going?" 
 
 "Tomorrow night," said Susan. "I think she's awful 
 nice. She ain't terribly pretty and she ain't much for 
 style, but she's sweet. Don't you think so?"
 
 46 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Yes," answered Asenath. She had never thought of 
 May Wilson at all, but she was quite willing to accept 
 Susan's opinion as final. Susan went on: 
 
 "I can't see why you don't care for the crowd at the 
 church. I think some of them are lovely. Why is it?" 
 
 "I don't know," answered Asenath. "I've always 
 been going there ever since I was a little tot and I've 
 grown up with them. Oh! I don't know. I guess they're 
 all right." 
 
 "Maybe it's because you had to go. That makes a big 
 difference." 
 
 Susan's approval of May Wilson and the expectation 
 of visiting her in Susan's company were responsible for 
 Asenath's looking forward to their projected call with 
 great interest. Neither of the girls considered Asenath's 
 going without an invitation as any infraction of the 
 social code.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 MAY WILSON was older than her intending 
 visitors. She was no longer in her teens and had 
 almost reached the age which in some States 
 would have made her eligible to cast the ballot. The 
 youngest of the three children of her widowed mother, 
 she alone remained at home. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson had a small income from her husband's 
 estate which, helped out by May's very fair salary as a 
 stenographer, enabled them to live quite comfortably. 
 Mrs. Wilson's sole dissipation was church-going, and 
 May went quite as regularly. Both of them were 
 attracted by the same advantage which the church 
 offered, but, while Mrs. Wilson said and believed that 
 her assiduity in this respect was a manifestation of her 
 strong religious feeling, May said and knew that her 
 own interest was purely social. She sat through the 
 services with complete disbelief in their virtue, while 
 her mother felt that she was actually taking part in 
 them and that she was thus helping the world. 
 
 From a worldly standpoint, however, May was quite 
 a sophisticated young person. Ignorant of art and letters 
 In their every aspect, except that she was a fairly 
 accurate speller, she was yet shrewd, quick in observa- 
 tion and blessed with a retentive memory. She was not 
 without a considerable social grace. Her dress was not 
 
 47
 
 48 THE CHOICE 
 
 remarkable either for style or the absence of it. In this 
 respect she was rather inconspicuous. Her invitation to 
 Susan had come as the result of the recognition of a 
 kindred spirit. Such a recognition is generally unrea- 
 soned. We seem to know instinctively when we are with 
 our own. 
 
 May was much surprised to find Asenath in Susan's 
 company when she opened the door. She did not care 
 for Asenath. Perhaps she resented her beauty. She had 
 known her from childhood and they had never had any- 
 thing in common. Asenath's silence annoyed her; she 
 was uncomfortable in her presence. She stood rather in 
 fear of a judgment which was not pronounced and which 
 she suspected was not favorable. In common with 
 almost everyone who knew Asenath, she felt that this 
 silence was the mark of a superior wisdom and she would 
 not have hesitated to quote " Still waters run deep" as 
 entirely applicable. 
 
 However, she greeted Asenath as an old friend and 
 devoted her conversation almost entirely to Susan. Mrs. 
 Wilson was not visible at first but the sounds issuing 
 from the kitchen sink proclaimed both her whereabouts 
 and her occupation. 
 
 The conversation was at first general. It was in the 
 nature of a reconnaissance on both sides, each of them 
 bent on locating the other's point of view. This applied 
 only to May and Susan. Asenath did not talk at all, but 
 she listened intently and had as much pleasure from the
 
 THE CHOICE 49 
 
 colloquy as either of the participants. However, when 
 apparel came to be discussed, she joined in the talk. 
 This was her subject, the one in which she felt herself at 
 perfect ease. There was no phase of the current modes 
 with which she was unfamiliar. For dress she had an all- 
 seeing eye. No detail escaped her. 
 
 Neither of the other girls was half so interested in this 
 topic as Asenath, and so, after a while, the talk went to 
 other things. 
 
 Suddenly May said, pointing to Susan's hand, " I see 
 you use 'em." 
 
 Susan's eye followed May's glance and, recognizing 
 that May alluded to a brownish stain on the thumb and 
 first finger of her right hand, said : 
 
 "Oh! Now and then." 
 
 " 'Now and then' comes pretty often, don't it? What 
 kind do you use?" 
 
 "Oh! Any kind that's handy." 
 
 "Mamma'll be going out in a few minutes, and, if you 
 want to, I've got a few." 
 
 All this was a complete mystery to Asenath. She had 
 no idea whatever of their meaning. However, she asked 
 no question. She did not wish to display her ignorance. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Wilson came into the room in which 
 the girls were sitting, exchanged a few words with them 
 and departed. She had no sooner gone than May went 
 out of the room to return in less than a minute with a 
 package of cigarettes and a box of safety matches. She
 
 50 THE CHOICE 
 
 offered them first to Susan, who helped herself to a 
 cigarette and a match. In a moment whe was puffing 
 away with the contentment of the practiced smoker. 
 May offered the cigarettes next to Asenath. 
 
 "Do you smoke?" asked May. 
 
 "I never have yet," answered Asenath. 
 
 "Would you like to try one?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Asenath took a cigarette from the box and put it in 
 her mouth. May struck a match and held it to the 
 cigarette. 
 
 "Now, draw on it," she said. 
 
 Asenath did so, inhaling the smoke. She was imme- 
 diately seized with a fit of coughing which brought tears 
 to her eyes. She tried it half a dozen times and finally 
 mastered the feat sufficiently to enable her to inhale the 
 smoke without coughing. 
 
 But she did not enjoy it and shortly laid the cigarette 
 down in the saucer which May had provided as an 
 ash receiver. She was conscious of a slight discomfort, 
 which she correctly attributed to the effects of smoking. 
 
 "Don't you like it?" asked Susan. 
 
 "No," said Asenath. "I think it's horrid." 
 
 May and Susan went on smoking in evident enjoy- 
 ment. They felt at peace with each other and the 
 world. And then they took up the subject of all others, 
 the young men they knew. 
 
 The only acquaintances which they held in common
 
 THE CHOICE 51 
 
 were limited to the young men whom Susan had met 
 at church. They were rather quickly disposed of with 
 one exception, James Rawlings, looked upon as the 
 great catch among all of the young fellows who were 
 active in church work. James was about twenty-seven 
 years old. He was a member of a family which, while not 
 rich by any means, was still in excellent circumstances. 
 He was a paying teller in one of the important Trust 
 Companies, was held to be very bright, quite a man of 
 the world. He was supposed to move in the best society, 
 which meant no more than moderately wealthy society. 
 He was also believed to dress very stylishly, but this 
 was only a superlative method of stating that he wore 
 rather good clothes. His manners were thought to 
 represent the last degree of polish. They were good. 
 
 Actually, he was a very decent young man who was 
 far from underrating himself in any particular. His 
 conceit, however, was not offensive; it really did no 
 more than to preserve a certain amount of dignity and 
 to cause him to hold himself somewhat aloof from his 
 church acquaintances in social affairs in which church 
 activities played no part. 
 
 The fable of his greatness had reached Susan almost 
 at once and, by the time of her third visit, she was as 
 devout a believer as any of the young women who 
 worshipped at his shrine. 
 
 The first view she had of him, after he had been 
 identified for her, confirmed all of the reports she had
 
 52 THE CHOICE 
 
 heard. He was, in fact, a good looking young fellow, 
 dark, with fairly regular features. He was of medium 
 height and average weight. Altogether his appearance 
 was quite presentable and thoroughly undistinguished. 
 
 After some of the other young men of the church 
 crowd had been discussed and variously classified, Susan 
 asked: 
 
 "Don't you think Mr. Rawlings is lovely?" 
 
 May had been making a great effort for nearly a 
 year to turn his friendliness at church and Sunday 
 School to some personal account. Thus far, her failure 
 had been complete. He never wavered in his politeness 
 and friendliness at church, but he never made any 
 move towards the development of a friendship with her 
 elsewhere. May, therefore, had a distinct sense of pique 
 in this regard, and was inclined to minimize his virtues. 
 
 "Oh! I don't know," she said. "I guess he's all right." 
 
 "Isn't his singing just wonderful?" went on Susan, 
 apparently not observing May's lack of enthusiasm. 
 "I've never heard anybody who wasn't a regular 
 singer sing like that." 
 
 "He does sing well," assented May grudgingly. 
 
 "Don't he ever go out with any of the girls at all?" 
 asked Susan, getting down to business. 
 
 "Oh, there's one girl he goes out with sometimes, 
 about once a year." 
 
 "He's awful religious, ain't he?" 
 
 "He's religious enough around the church but I'm
 
 THE CHOICE 53 
 
 not so sure what he does elsewhere. I've heard that he 
 drinks his cocktail when he gets a chance." . 
 
 The word "cocktail" had a very unpleasant sound for 
 Asenath. She wondered how anyone could ever want 
 to touch them. However, she was enjoying herself 
 thoroughly. Never had she taken part in so "grown-up" 
 a conversation. 
 
 "You don't say so," exclaimed Susan in answer to 
 May's remark on the subject of Rawlings' indulgence 
 in cocktails. "I'd never have thought it. Who's the 
 girl he goes out with?" 
 
 "Laura Mitchell. Have you met her?" 
 
 "Is she the tall, dark complected girl that wore a 
 tan suit on Sunday?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Is she nice?" 
 
 "She's all right, I guess. I don't have much to do 
 with her." This was strictly true, but the reason for 
 it was not, as May's remark would indicate, lack of 
 initiative on her part, but was owing entirely to the 
 fact that Laura Mitchell was much the superior of 
 May intellectually and found her company quite 
 tedious. 
 
 "What's her drag with Mr. Rawlings?" asked Susan. 
 
 May shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sure I don't 
 know," she said, in a tone which suggested that the 
 subject bored her. Susan perceived this but determined 
 to make one more remark before it was dropped.
 
 54 THE CHOICE 
 
 "I guess he'd never be able to 'see' a shrimp like me." 
 The smile with which May greeted this observation 
 was intended to convey an appreciation of its humor 
 and at the same time an insinuation that Susan was 
 too modest by far. Having failed in all her attempts to 
 interest Rawlings, it was only natural that she should 
 not expect Susan to succeed. It would be difficult to 
 explain just why Susan made this last remark. Certainly 
 she could not have explained it herself. Really, it was 
 a gage of battle, for Susan had determined to interest 
 Rawlings. She did not know just how she would go 
 about it, but she was confident that there must be some 
 way and that she would find it. 
 
 Shortly after the discussion of Rawlings, Asenath and 
 Susan left. Both of them felt that it had been a very 
 successful evening, although neither of them said 
 anything about it. In fact, as they walked towards 
 McBrides' house in silence, they both felt serenely 
 happy.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 SUSAN'S plans were not to be put into execution 
 immediately. The summer season was at hand 
 and church activities ceased. She did not lose 
 sight of her intention, however, and, although she did 
 not speak of it, the subject was often in her mind. Her 
 friendship with Asenath continued and the girls were 
 much together. 
 
 In a negative way, for the most part, Asenath did a 
 great deal for her. To begin with, the atmosphere of the 
 McBride household, where she was a frequent visitor, 
 was entirely different from anything she had ever known, 
 and gave her an entirely new viewpoint. McBride was, 
 in the mam, rather a silent man. Not that he had any 
 hesitation in expressing his views upon occasion, but 
 rather because he found little pleasure in talk for talk's 
 sake. He liked Susan. To him she always represented the 
 convert he had made. He enjoyed her ready wit, which, 
 as their acquaintance developed and she felt more at 
 ease with him, was frequently in evidence in then* talks. 
 
 McBride tried several tunes to get Susan to bring 
 her mother to church with her, but, while she was quite 
 willing to promise to do what she could towards accom- 
 plishing this end, she never succeeded in getting her to 
 come. 
 
 Asenath helped Susan with her clothes. She told her 
 
 55
 
 56 THECHOICE 
 
 what to buy, how to make it or have it made. She knew, 
 as if by instinct, just what would accentuate Susan's 
 every good point and what would minimize the poor 
 ones. Her judgment in this matter seemed to Susan to 
 be almost uncanny. She was so delighted with her 
 appearance when, for the first time, she was completely 
 dressed according to Asenath's instruction, that her 
 estimate of her friend's cleverness was largely increased. 
 It seemed to her, thus attired, that she had advanced in 
 the social scale and that it was now incumbent upon her 
 to be extremely particular in the choice of her associates. 
 
 Up to now, she had associated very freely with a large 
 number of boys, but she had never had an intimate 
 friend among the girls she knew. She had grown up 
 almost entirely without parental supervision, at least 
 since she was fourteen years old, when she had first gone 
 to work. 
 
 But now she saw no boys at all. In the first place, she 
 felt that those she knew were not the kind with whom 
 she should associate and, in the second, she had set 
 her mind upon Rawlings. He typified for her everything 
 desirable in a man. As far as her imagination carried her, 
 she figured him as representing supreme elegance, 
 adequate wealth, certain distinction. 
 
 Although she had set her heart on attracting him, she 
 thought it scarcely possible that she might finally 
 marry him. It is true that at tunes this entered her head, 
 but it seemed too remote a chance to be considered
 
 THE CHOICE 57 
 
 seriously. What she wanted and what she believed she 
 might obtain was his recognition of her as someone with 
 whom he might associate independently of any rela- 
 tion which might arise through their meeting at church. 
 
 Susan was much too intelligent not to know she was 
 without education. But, though she recognized her lack 
 in this respect, she could not believe that it made any 
 important difference. She felt that her manners were 
 perfectly good, and that any attempt to "put on lugs," 
 as she would have called it, would be mere affectation. 
 She felt that she had the personal charm, the ready wit, 
 the vivacity to carry her through. She was sure that she 
 could keep up with him if she only had the chance. And 
 the chance was what she determined she would have. 
 
 She talked to Asenath about Rawlings several times, 
 but received answers which indicated a total lack of 
 interest in him. Asenath had seen him frequently but 
 had scarcely ever talked to him, by which is meant that 
 he had scarcely ever talked to her. She had never said 
 anything to him at all except "good morning" and "good 
 evening," or "yes" or "isn't it? " when he had made some 
 cheerful remark about the weather or some other simi- 
 larly important topic. She never saw him in the summer 
 at all, for neither of them went to church, and elsewhere 
 she had never seen him. 
 
 Asenath was in the habit of spending two weeks of 
 every summer in the country. Mrs. McBride's brother- 
 in-law, William Hammond, was a farmer in fair cir-
 
 58 THE CHOICE 
 
 cumstances, who was, however, not above adding to his 
 income by the entertainment of summer boarders. 
 Asenath did not pay. She was an invited guest and the 
 obligation thus created was usually discharged by a 
 return visit by the Hammonds to the McBrides, some 
 time during the winter. While she was still a little girl, 
 that is, up to the age of fourteen, Asenath looked for- 
 ward with pleasure to her annual outing. Beyond that 
 age, it had lost its charm. She was no longer interested 
 in purely childish things and she was not old enough 
 to be treated as anything but a child. There was rarely 
 any society for her except her cousin Anna, who was 
 slightly younger and whom she cordially disliked for no 
 specific reason whatever. Anna was no fonder of her. 
 The two girls were forced to room together and this 
 made their association particularly irksome, as they 
 never felt able to indulge in real quarrel, the parental 
 rule over both being far too strict. Instead, they simply 
 tolerated each other, each fully aware of the quality of 
 her cousin's esteem. This was one of Asenath's reasons 
 for not enjoying her visit to her aunt, whose name, by 
 the way, she bore. 
 
 This year, however, Anna would not be at home, and 
 Asenath conceived a brilliant scheme. She was to use 
 Anna's bedroom, which would accommodate two. Why 
 not then secure an invitation for Susan? She asked Susan 
 if she would care to accept and was told that she would 
 "simply love to go." It was not difficult to get Mrs.
 
 THE CHOICE 59 
 
 McBride to write to her sister to obtain the invitation, 
 which came immediately. It was not even difficult to 
 arrange that the two girls should take their vacations 
 at the same time. They were allowed one week. 
 
 To Susan, who had never spent more than part of 
 one day in the country, the projected visit was a great 
 adventure. All of her previous experience in the way of 
 outings was confined to an occasional day at the sea- 
 shore. Her idea of rural life was based largely on what 
 she had seen in the theatre, with particular reference to 
 moving pictures. 
 
 In her limited description of her uncle's farm, Asenath 
 had not placed any emphasis upon the fact that Susan 
 would encounter summer boarders. They had never had 
 any interest for Asenath, and, if she mentioned the 
 matter at all, it had been so casually that Susan was 
 quite unprepared to see so many faces when she came 
 into the dining room for the first time. 
 
 The boarders were of the usual variety. Three elderly 
 spinsters and two wives, one with two and the other with 
 three small children, whose husbands came only at week- 
 ends, made up the party. 
 
 It required only a few minutes for Susan to determine 
 that she was in the presence of gentility and she, there- 
 fore, exercised great care in her behavior. She was bent 
 upon her own social advancement and saw here further 
 opportunity to obtain a foothold upon a higher rung in 
 the social ladder. She listened intently to the conversa-
 
 60 THE CHOICE 
 
 tion, noting phrases which appeared to her to possess 
 elegance and which expressed an outlook upon life which 
 to her seemed quite distinguished. She took very little 
 part in the conversation and promptly acquired a repu- 
 tation for modesty and an agreeable disposition. 
 
 Asenath took no part in the conversation at all unless 
 an occasional smile of recognition and an absolutely 
 necessary monosyllable may be so called. 
 
 After supper, it was the evening meal, the two girls, 
 each with an arm about the other's waist, walked down 
 the lane which led to the farm. Susan was enthusiastic. 
 The sun was setting and she felt the beauty of the softly 
 lighted early summer landscape. 
 
 "Oh! Isn't it gorgeous?" she exclaimed. " I think the 
 country is just beautiful." 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath. "I like it now, but I never did 
 before." 
 
 They walked on in silence. In a few minutes they 
 reached the main road. For a moment they stood at the 
 meeting of the two roads, and then choosing the direc- 
 tion in which the main road took a sharp turn about a 
 piece of woodland, walked on. As they made the turn 
 in the road they saw an automobile at the edge of the 
 deep ditch, evidently held up on account of some 
 mechanical trouble, for two young men were carefully 
 inspecting the engine. They were in earnest conversation 
 and did not observe the approach of the two girls until 
 they were within a few yards.
 
 THE CHOICE 61 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said one of them, raising his 
 cap, "we're in trouble. Can you tell us where the nearest 
 garage is?" 
 
 Susan looked at Asenath, expecting her, as one 
 acquainted with the country, to give the desired infor- 
 mation. 
 
 Asenath took the hint. 
 
 "I don't know," she said; "we're visitors here at my 
 uncle's farm, just around the bend in the road. But if 
 you'll go there, I guess Uncle William will be able to 
 tell you." She was distinctly pleased with the young 
 man who had asked the question. It was not merely his 
 good looks, although he had them in plenty. He was tall, 
 slightly less than six feet; fair, with regular features, 
 large expressive gray eyes; his nose was rather large, his 
 mouth and chin stood for character and determination. 
 It was not his pleasant voice nor his manner of speaking 
 which would have plainly indicated both breeding and 
 education to anyone able to appreciate it; it was some- 
 thing quite intangible. But whatever it was, Asenath 
 made no question of it; she simply liked him at once. 
 
 He thanked her and started off in the direction indi- 
 cated, leaving his companion standing by the machine. 
 Asenath would have liked to accompany him but did 
 not know how to make the offer. So, after his departure, 
 she and Susan continued their walk. 
 
 When they returned, about half an hour later, they 
 found the machine standing where they had left it but
 
 62 THE CHOICE 
 
 neither of the young men were in sight. They went on 
 towards the house and, entering, saw them both in the 
 dining room eating supper. 
 
 Some few minutes later, the young men came into 
 the parlor, where Asenath and Susan were sitting. They 
 were followed by Mrs. Hammond, who introduced them 
 as Mr. Lamed, who proved to be the one who had 
 addressed the girls, and Mr. Graham. They were about 
 the same age, twenty-five years, and seemed also to be 
 of much the same type, although Graham was as dark 
 as his companion was fair. 
 
 "Your aunt has been good enough to take us in, Miss 
 McBride," said Lamed. "We shall have to haul the 
 car into the barn and leave it there until we can get a 
 new connecting rod. We'll telephone to town tomorrow 
 morning and have it sent out by a special messenger. It 
 ought to be here in the afternoon." He wondered why 
 he should feel impelled to make this explanation to her. 
 There did not seem to be any apparent reason for 
 supposing her to be interested. 
 
 To Asenath, the explanation was music. She found 
 him charming and wished to say something that would 
 show him how glad she was to help make him welcome. 
 But nothing came, and in its stead she gave him a 
 smile which betokened an interested, sympathetic 
 understanding. That is, at least, how Lamed read it. 
 He would likely have felt ill at ease, no matter what 
 she might have said under the circumstances, for he
 
 THE CHOICE 63 
 
 was still wondering what had made him offer the unnec- 
 essary explanation. He was not yet fully aware that 
 the mere sight of her had held such charm for him 
 that he felt it incumbent upon him to justify his 
 presence before her. 
 
 Asenath's smile had set him at ease and, after that, 
 conversation was easy. 
 
 "This is a lovely part of the country, isn't it?" he 
 said. 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath. "I love it." 
 
 Graham put in a word here. "I learn from Mrs. 
 Hammond that you are only here for a short time." 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath. "Sue and I are only going to 
 stay one week. We've just come." 
 
 "Are you equally fond of the country, Miss Collins?" 
 asked Larned. He did not like her. She appeared to 
 great disadvantage in the presence of her friend. Neither 
 was Graham attracted to her. Nor was he particularly 
 attracted to Asenath, although he was quite conscious 
 of her beauty. But then his interest in the sex was 
 already determined in the direction of a certain young 
 lady who is of no importance to us at present. 
 
 "I'm just crazy about it," answered Susan. "It's 
 the first time I've ever been to a farm. I've always 
 gone to the shore." 
 
 There was a little more general conversation and then 
 Larned and Graham left to superintend the hauling of 
 their car into the barn. The girls went out on the
 
 64 THE CHOICE 
 
 porch and listened to the conversation of the ladies for 
 a while, but not finding that interesting, Asenath 
 proposed going to bed. 
 
 As they were undressing, she interrupted Susan's 
 flow of talk by asking: 
 
 "Isn't Mr. Larned grand?" 
 
 "Oh! I don't know," answered Susan. "He seems to 
 be all right but he's kind of I don't know just what to 
 call it. He ain't sissified but he's got kind of a soft way 
 of talking." 
 
 "I think he's fine," said Asenath, after a short pause. 
 "I just love to hear him talk." She paused again and 
 reflected for a moment. "Did you notice his hands? 
 Aren't they beautiful?" 
 
 "No," answered Susan. "I didn't take notice of that. 
 His friend, what was his name? didn't have much to 
 say for himself." 
 
 "Didn't he?" queried Asenath. "I didn't notice." 
 
 In their room, as Larned and Graham were getting 
 ready for bed, the former said: 
 
 "That McBride girl is a beauty, isn't she?" 
 
 "She's certainly very pretty, but the other's just the 
 regular type, what you might call the 'garden variety,' 
 I suppose." 
 
 "Yes, she makes an admirable foil for the other. 
 Not that she needs any foil. I've got it," Larned said 
 suddenly. 
 
 "Got what?" asked Graham.
 
 THE CHOICE 65 
 
 "The moment I saw Miss McBride, I was struck with 
 her resemblance to someone I had met, and ever since, 
 I've been cudgeling my brains to locate her. And now 
 I know. She's the living counterpart of Madame Vigee 
 le Brun; you know the picture, the one with her child." 
 
 "Oh! Yes. Sure," said Graham. "She does look like 
 her. She looks quite the lady. I wonder if she's got any 
 brains." 
 
 "I don't doubt it," said Lamed. "Of course, it was 
 impossible to form any opinion in the sort of talk we 
 had, but she gave me the impression of being extremely 
 intelligent." 
 
 They talked of other subjects for a while and then 
 bade each other good night.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE next morning Susan was taken in tow by 
 one of the elderly spinsters, Miss Lame, who 
 had conceived a fancy for her. Their talk, which 
 had begun on the porch shortly after breakfast, was 
 continued in Miss Lame's room, where she had sundry 
 treasures which she wished to show to Susan. Asenath 
 had been with her friend when the talk had begun and 
 had been a silent and uninterested listener. When Miss 
 Larue asked Susan to go to her room, an invitation had 
 likewise been extended to Asenath, but it was declined 
 very sweetly. It was comfortable on the porch and 
 she was very happy in the contemplation of the image 
 of Mr. Lamed which was present in her mind. 
 
 Her delight when he approached her shortly after 
 Susan's departure was unbounded. That is, of course, 
 internally. Externally "Welcome" was the keynote of 
 her expression. There was no mistaking the sincerity 
 of her greeting. 
 
 "Good morning, Miss McBride," said Larned. 
 
 "Good morning," answered Asenath. 
 
 "I hope you rested well," he began, "but that's a silly 
 remark to make to anyone who looks as fresh as you." 
 
 "I always sleep well/' 
 
 "At your age, I suppose it is to be expected." At 
 twenty-five, eighteen seems very young. 
 
 66
 
 THE CHOICE 67 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath. 
 
 "What would you say to a little stroll?" inquired 
 Larned. 
 
 "All right," said Asenath. "I'll get my hat." 
 
 "Do you need it? We won't go far." 
 
 "But it's sunny" 
 
 "And your complexion." 
 
 Asenath smiled assent. 
 
 "Well, a complexion like yours is worth saving." 
 
 She made no answer but ran away to get her hat. 
 It was a full minute before she returned, because with 
 Asenath, putting on a hat was putting on a hat and not 
 merely throwing it on. 
 
 "All ready," she said when she reappeared. 
 
 "Where shall we walk?" he asked. "You ought to 
 know the good places." 
 
 "There's an awful pretty brook over there," said Asen- 
 ath, pointing in the direction of the rear of the house. 
 
 "Let's go there," said the other. And off they went, 
 following a little path which led around the house and 
 across a meadow to a line of trees indicating the presence 
 of running water. 
 
 They began their walk in silence, a silence however 
 of short duration. It was broken by Larned. 
 
 "Did anyone ever tell you," he asked, "that you 
 resemble Madame Vige le Brun?" 
 
 "No," said Asenath. She had, of course, never heard 
 of her.
 
 68 THE CHOICE 
 
 "You've seen her picture, surely." 
 
 "I don't remember," said Asenath thoughtfully. 
 "Who was she?" 
 
 Lamed was struck with what he would have called 
 an entire absence of affectation. He admired her candor, 
 her frankness in admitting her ignorance. He was sure 
 that most girls would have pretended that they knew 
 by taking care not to commit themselves. 
 
 "She was a French artist of the Eighteenth Century. 
 She painted a picture of herself holding her child. She 
 was very beautiful." 
 
 "Was she?" asked Asenath, delighted. 
 
 "Yes, she was, and you are very beautiful too. You 
 are almost the exact image of her, except that you are 
 younger." 
 
 Asenath showed her pleasure plainly. She felt that 
 she ought to enter some sort of disclaimer, but she could 
 not think of any that seemed suitable for use in this 
 case. And Larned, seeing her pleasure and noting that 
 she made no mock-modest denial of his appreciation, 
 set it down as another evidence of her clean straight- 
 forwardness and refreshing simplicity. He found her 
 utterly charming. 
 
 There was a short silence after Larned 's last remark. 
 And again it was he who broke it. 
 
 "Tell me all about yourself," he said. 
 
 "Tell you about me?" she asked in surprise. 
 
 "Yes; you."
 
 THE CHOICE 69 
 
 "There's nothing to tell." 
 
 "There must be." 
 
 "No; there's nothing at all. You tell me about 
 yourself." 
 
 "All right. Here it is in a nutshell. Name, Harold 
 Prentis Larned. Age, twenty-five next September. 
 Profession, school teacher. Branch, Physics. Religion, 
 none that would be recognized by any regular church. 
 Favorite flower, cauliflower, and so on." 
 
 "Oh, I can do that too," cried Asenath. This was 
 really the most interesting conversation she had ever 
 had in her life. "My name's Asenath McBride. What 
 comes next?" 
 
 "Your age." 
 
 "Eighteen. Nineteen in December. Now what?" 
 
 "Profession." 
 
 "Telephone operator. Now what?" 
 
 "Religion." 
 
 "Presbyterian." 
 
 "Are you very devout?" 
 
 "I don't know. I ain't crazy to go to church. We just 
 go every Sunday and every Wednesday evening too." 
 
 "Don't you enjoy going?" 
 
 "I don't know. Sometimes I don't mind it so much. 
 Do you go to church?" 
 
 "Never. Unless for a wedding or a funeral." 
 
 Asenath smiled her approval. He thought that he 
 had never seen so sweet a look as she wore. In fact,
 
 70 THE CHOICE 
 
 Asenath was in gayer mood than she had ever known. 
 
 They had reached the brook by this time and stood 
 looking at the running water, fascinated as all of us 
 are by the murmur and the ever-changing pattern of 
 the stream. 
 
 It was again Larned who broke the silence. 
 
 "I'm awfully glad that we had our accident here. I 
 almost wish the connecting rod wouldn't come today. 
 I feel as though I'd like to become very well acquainted 
 with you." 
 
 Asenath could not think of a suitable answer. She 
 still looked at the brook. 
 
 Larned did not know quite how to understand her 
 silence. There was no doubt whatever in his mind that she 
 liked him, for her bearing was more than cordial. Perhaps 
 it was shyness. Assuredly it must be so, a sweet maid- 
 enly reserve which but added to her attractiveness. 
 
 This time it was Asenath who broke the silence. 
 
 "Tell me about Madame , the French artist." 
 
 "Oh! Madame Vigee le Brun. I'm afraid I don't know 
 very much myself, except that she was born about 1750 
 and lived a long while. You see, I've sort of taken her 
 for granted, like we do with many things." 
 
 Asenath looked at him with an expression of the 
 keenest interest. As she said nothing, he went on: 
 
 "I have a little copy of the picture I spoke about 
 before. Would you like to have it?" 
 
 "I'd love to," said Asenath with warmth.
 
 THE CHOICE 71 
 
 "If you'll give me your address, I'll mail it to you 
 when I get back to town." 
 
 "That would be lovely," she answered. "Thank you 
 ever so much." 
 
 She gave him her address, which he noted in a little 
 memorandum book, and then they resumed their walk. 
 The talking was done almost entirely by Lamed. He 
 told her some of the incidents of the trip which he and 
 Graham had undertaken and sundry other matters 
 which proceeded naturally from what had gone before. 
 When they returned, both of them felt that they had 
 had a most enjoyable time. Until now, Asenath never 
 met anyone of Larned's quality and she was ready to 
 call him "wonderful." It is quite as true that he had 
 never met anyone exactly like her before, and, while it is 
 certain that he would not have applied the sameadjective, 
 he was charmed by her as by no girl he had ever met. 
 
 At the house, on their return, they found Graham 
 waiting for them. The new connecting rod had arrived 
 and a mechanic from a nearby garage was at work put- 
 ting it in place. 
 
 After the midday dinner, the two young men took 
 their departure. As he was bidding good-bye to Asenath, 
 Larned said : "I hope we'll meet again. It has been very 
 pleasant." 
 
 "Good-bye," she said, her expression telling him 
 what he wanted to know. 
 
 A few days after her return home Asenath received a
 
 72 THE CHOICE 
 
 small photogravure copy of Vigee le Brim's portrait of 
 herself and her daughter, accompanied by these words 
 written on the back of a visiting card: 
 
 "I am sure you will see the resemblance 
 instantly. It is most striking. With the most 
 delightful recollections of a pleasant walk in 
 the country, p K> , 
 
 Asenath was delighted with the picture, which she 
 recognized as one she had seen before but had not given 
 sufficient attention to lead her to observe the likeness. 
 She saw it now, incomplete as it was by reason of the 
 difference in headdress. She arranged her hair in the 
 fashion shown in the picture and then the resemblance 
 was complete. She stood before the glass for a long time, 
 the picture in her hand, gazing alternately at it and her 
 reflection. It seemed as though she would never tire of 
 her first real appreciation of graphic art. 
 
 She began a note of thanks to Lamed. 
 Dear Mr. Lamed: 
 
 The picture came and I want to thank you 
 for it. It is so beautiful that 
 
 And there she stuck. She felt that she must in some 
 way qualify her acceptance of the resemblance between 
 the picture and herself. Her code of etiquette made it 
 obligatory. But, although she made six or seven attempts 
 to find a satisfactory phrase, she was unable to do so. 
 
 And so the receipt of the picture was never acknowl-
 
 PART TWO 
 
 RAWLINGS 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 IT was early in October that Susan felt that the time 
 had arrived to make a test of her ability to interest 
 Rawlings. She had considered many plans, but none 
 of them seemed practical. The feeling that she must not 
 show any initiative was intuitive. That was as firmly 
 fixed as the stars in their courses. She knew that in the 
 end she would have to depend on herself, but that would 
 be only after Rawlings' interest had been aroused. 
 
 Finally she hit upon this plan: She was sure that 
 Rawlings would not be able to decline a direct invitation 
 from McBride to dine at his house. McBride was quite 
 as active in church work as Rawlings, and an invitation 
 for a definite date would have to be accepted. She was 
 in no doubt whatever as to her ability to induce McBride 
 to issue the invitation. 
 
 Coming from church on the first Sunday morning in 
 October to dine with the McBrides, Susan saw her 
 opportunity. 
 
 "Mr. McBride," she said, as they walked along, 
 "don't you think Mr. Harmon is a lovely man?" 
 
 Mr. Harmon was the minister. 
 
 "He's a very fine man," answered McBride; "one of 
 God's chosen ministers." 
 
 73
 
 74 THE CHOICE 
 
 "I've often wondered how it would be to meet a 
 man like that, you know what I mean, at home." 
 
 "He's a fine man, no matter where you meet him." 
 
 "Does he ever come to see you at your house? " 
 
 "Yes, he comes once a year. It's a large church and 
 it takes tune to get around." 
 
 "Did you ever invite him to a meal at your house?" 
 
 "No; we never did." 
 
 "Don't you think it would be fine?" 
 
 " It's worth thinking about," said McBride thought- 
 fully. 
 
 "You could make up a nice little party. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Harmon, and and Mr. Rawlings?" This last ques- 
 tioriingly. 
 
 "Yes; Rawlings would be all right." 
 
 "And," asked Susan, taking it now as an accomplished 
 fact, "may I come, too? " 
 
 "Surely we'd have you," he answered. 
 
 At the dinner table, McBride startled the other mem- 
 bers of his family by announcing: 
 
 "I've been thinking we'll invite Mr. Harmon and his 
 wife for 'supper some night soon. I'll speak to him 
 Wednesday night. We'll have James Rawlings, too." 
 
 The fiat had gone forth and that left nothing to be 
 done by the women of the family except the arrange- 
 ment of the details. There was never any question when 
 McBride made an announcement. 
 
 The supper was fixed for the second Friday following.
 
 THE CHOICE 75 
 
 McBride had consulted Mr. Harmon and he had set 
 this date. Rawlings had also accepted. He was bored but 
 he aspired to become one of the elders of the church and 
 McBride was an influential member, due to his activity 
 and regularity. 
 
 The preparation for the meal was quite an affair. 
 Every detail of the menu was submitted to McBride, 
 who considered each item carefully and gave his final 
 judgment. Asenath, who had been going over one of her 
 fashion magazines, made some suggestions which were 
 the result of her attention having been called to a pic- 
 ture of a dinner-table which she found on one of its 
 pages. It had caught her eye because it really was a very 
 good looking picture. Asenath had read the article which 
 it illustrated and had thus learned the menu which had 
 been offered at the dinner. She was convinced that a meal 
 of this kind would be in good style. The simplicity, the 
 almost frugality of it impressed her probably for the same 
 reason that she instinctively chose the most becoming cos- 
 tumes for herself from the pages of the same magazine. 
 
 McBride scarcely listened to her. What he wanted 
 and what was actually served was a dinner; they called 
 it supper, on account of the hour, which consisted of 
 roast turkey, six vegetables and three kinds of dessert, 
 with large cups of coffee served at the beginning of the 
 meal. In view of the fact that the service was to be in 
 the hands of Mrs. McBride, Asenath and Susan, the 
 sort of meal decided upon was much more practical than
 
 76 THE CHOICE 
 
 the five-course dinner suggested by Asenath. Every- 
 thing except the dessert was to be put on the table 
 before they sat down and the plates would be passed 
 around. When the main portion of the meal was finished, 
 the three women would clear the table and bring in the 
 dessert. When it was over the men would retire into 
 the parlor while the women cleared up. The washing of 
 dishes could be left until later. 
 
 By Susan's contrivance, Rawlings sat between the 
 two girls. There was not much opportunity for her in 
 this placing of him, because what conversation there 
 was, while conducted almost exclusively by Mr. Har- 
 mon and McBride, had to be attended by the others as 
 the utterances of the Delphic oracle. 
 
 After all, the principal business of the meal was 
 eating. Susan made some side remarks to Rawlings in 
 which she praised his singing. As he held his talent in 
 this respect hi rather high regard, he was much pleased. 
 He felt it necessary to say that his singing was nothing 
 much. Susan then adverted to a particular performance 
 of his which she said had been most beautiful. This 
 moved him to talk about it and himself generally. The 
 genuine interest which Susan showed in what he had 
 to say made her rather agreeable to him. At one point in 
 his talk, he made a somewhat disparaging remark about 
 his performance of a hymn on the preceding Sunday 
 afternoon. Susan took issue with him, whereupon he 
 turned to his left and appealed to Asenath.
 
 THE CHOICE 77 
 
 She had not been listening to their talk and the 
 question had to be explained to her. When she under- 
 stood, she said: 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 " But surely, you know whether it was good or bad or 
 whether or not you liked it." 
 
 "I didn't listen to it," she answered. 
 
 This piqued Rawlings, and he endeavored to draw 
 her into an argument on the subject, but she eluded 
 him. The greater his effort, the less satisfaction he 
 received, and finally he gave it up and devoted to 
 Susan all of the interludes between the utterances of 
 the oracles. 
 
 The party broke up at an early hour. More or less 
 stupefied by the large quantity of food he had eaten, 
 McBride gave distinct evidence of sleepiness, and so, 
 when Mr. Harmon said at about nine o'clock that they 
 would have to be going, his host made only a half- 
 hearted protest. 
 
 Mrs. Harmon and Susan retired to put on their hats 
 and wraps. When they returned presently, "good- 
 nights" were said, the guests declared they had enjoyed 
 themselves greatly and the hosts had asked for another 
 opportunity to act as their entertainers. 
 
 The quartet walked down the street together, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Harmon in the lead. 
 
 Rawlings asked Susan: 
 
 "Where do you live, Miss Collins?"
 
 78 THE CHOICE 
 
 Susan told him. It was a decidedly poor section of 
 the city. 
 
 "May I see you home?" asked Rawlings, politely. 
 He had no wish to go. 
 
 "Oh, you needn't bother. I'm used to going home 
 alone," protested Susan. She was somewhat embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 " It wouldn't be any bother at all, "answered Rawlings. 
 
 "If you'll just take me as far as the car, I'll be all 
 right. Please." 
 
 "Just as you wish. But I'd be very glad to go all 
 the way. It isn't late." 
 
 But Susan was determined that he should not go. 
 "Please don't bother," she said with sufficient finality to 
 convince him. 
 
 Rawlings saw her safely on board her car and then 
 walked home. He was somewhat mystified. In one even- 
 ing, two different girls, two very young girls, too, had 
 asserted themselves in his presence. Susan's refusal of his 
 escort meant nothing much to him. It was far more con- 
 venient not to accompany her, but that she should not 
 jump at the chance of having James Rawlings for a 
 cavalier, even though it might be obvious that his offer 
 was due to politeness only, rather piqued him. But 
 Asenath's indifference was a deeper wound. He was not 
 much of a ladies' man, but what little he had had to do 
 with girls had accustomed him to look for both admira- 
 tion and gratitude from them for no more than his notice.
 
 THE CHOICE 79 
 
 As he pondered this matter, it suddenly occurred to 
 him that he would have to make some return for his 
 evening's entertainment. Of course, he would have to 
 call on the family. But he felt that that would not be 
 sufficient. He must do something which would place the 
 obligation on their side. 
 
 The only thing possible was some entertainment to 
 be offered to Asenath. He could not very well take the 
 whole family out. He was not well placed to have them 
 all at dinner at his house, as he lived with a married 
 sister, whose husband attended another church. Finally 
 he decided to ask Asenath to accompany him to a con- 
 cert to be given on Saturday of the next week. He would 
 thus have a chance to pay her for her indifference. 
 
 He made the proposal on Sunday. Asenath accepted 
 it very sweetly but without the enthusiasm that 
 Rawlings expected. After she had expressed her willing- 
 ness to go, he asked her how she would like to have him 
 call for her early and take her to dinner at one of the 
 restaurants. He mentioned a very expensive place of 
 which Asenath knew no more than that it was supposed 
 to be "very swell." 
 
 "I'll ask mamma," said Asenath, this time with 
 more interest. "I guess she'll say it's all right. I'll see 
 you at Sunday School and tell you." 
 
 When she saw him in the afternoon she announced 
 that her parents' consent had been obtained, but she 
 did not tell him that nothing but Rawlings' reputation
 
 80 THE CHOICE 
 
 for Godliness had prevailed against McBride's prejudice 
 against such places. He had refused at first, but for 
 once his wife had dared to question his decision. She 
 had pointed out that the very best people went to 
 this place, among them a Presbyterian minister of 
 national reputation who had been entertained there by 
 some rich members of their own congregation. The 
 discussion had the effect of largely increasing Asenath's 
 interest in the affair. Her general lack of interest in 
 her surroundings at this particular time was partly 
 due to the fact that the memory of her morning with 
 Lamed was almost constantly in her mind. She 
 frequently upbraided herself for her failure to acknowl- 
 edge the receipt of the picture he had sent her while 
 it was yet time. 
 Now it was too late.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 PROMPTLY at six o'clock on Saturday evening, 
 Rawlings stepped out of a taxicab and rang the 
 McBrides' doorbell. Mrs. McBride, following a 
 custom which has the force of great tradition, peered 
 out of the window before answering. When she saw 
 the taxicab, she was greatly excited. Nothing of the 
 kind had ever happened before in her experience. She 
 called to Asenath, as she went down the stairs: 
 "He's come in a taxi!" 
 
 Asenath was surprised beyond measure. A taxi! This 
 was life indeed. Rawlings certainly knew how to do 
 things. Now she could feel perfectly comfortable in 
 her new dress. She had been in some doubt about it, 
 for it was in the very latest fashion, and wearing it 
 in a street-car would surely subject her to staring. She 
 was nearly ready when the bell rang, but she did not 
 descend at once. It was not premeditated but instinc- 
 tive. She employed the three or four minutes in assuring 
 herself of the complete correctness of her attire in every 
 particular. 
 
 When she came into the parlor, Rawlings was 
 delighted with her appearance. He had never before 
 been fully conscious of her beauty. If anyone had asked 
 him what sort of looks she had, it would have been 
 necessary for him to have taken thought before he 
 
 81
 
 82 THE CHOICE 
 
 answered. He would undoubtedly have said that "she 
 wasn't a bad looking girl." But now, he recognized 
 she was more than that, and would have been willing 
 to admit that she was quite worthy, at least in appear- 
 ance, of the somewhat elaborate entertainment he had 
 planned for the purpose of convincing the McBrides 
 that he was a very big man indeed. 
 
 Asenath's pleasure in the affair had not figured in 
 his calculations at all. Even now, in his satisfaction 
 with her appearance, he was thinking of the favorable 
 impression she would make upon any of his acquaint- 
 ances who might see her with him. He was surprised 
 that the daughter of such commonplace people could 
 have such an air of distinction and wear such good 
 looking clothes with so much grace and poise. 
 
 He greeted her with a compliment upon her looks, 
 which she acknowledged with a grateful smile. She 
 felt somewhat ill at ease, excited. This was the first 
 time in her life that a man had come to see her. Never, 
 in all of her dreams, had she imagined such splendor as 
 this. Rawlings was in evening dress. 
 
 Mrs. McBride exchanged a few words with him 
 before they left; she watched them start off in the taxi 
 and then ran upstairs to discuss the matter with 
 McBride, who had been unable to appear. 
 
 The talk between Asenath and Rawlings in the cab 
 was rather disjointed. She scarcely heard what he said, 
 so intent was she upon the novel situation in which she
 
 THE CHOICE 83 
 
 found herself. She answered his remarks with mono- 
 syllables only. 
 
 When they arrived at the restaurant, Asenath was 
 newly excited. The attendant in uniform who opened 
 the door of the cab, the canopy over the street, the 
 thick carpet of the entrance hall, the maid who attended 
 her in the ladies' room were all new experiences. Excited 
 as she was, there was no indication of it in her demeanor. 
 She received every attention without making any 
 false steps, simply because she exercised no initiative 
 at all and always awaited action on the part of the 
 others. Only when her wraps had been taken from her 
 and she had again assured herself of the correctness of 
 every detail of her dress did she ask a question: 
 
 "Will Mr. Rawlings come here for me?" 
 
 The maid indicated a door, which Asenath opened 
 and found Rawlings awaiting her. This was his first 
 sight of her without her coat and his pleasure was even 
 greater than before. 
 
 "All ready?" he asked. 
 
 "All ready," she said and walked with him to the 
 door of the main dining room. The head waiter greeted 
 Rawlings by name, a custom which pleased him 
 greatly because he felt that it indicated his social 
 prominence as a frequent guest in this fashionable 
 place, but which made no impression on the inex- 
 perienced Asenath, who took it quite as a matter of 
 course.
 
 84 THE CHOICE 
 
 When they were seated at a reserved and specially 
 decorated table, the special character of which was 
 unsuspected by Asenath, Rawlings asked her if she 
 had any choice as to food. 
 
 "No," answered she, "you order. I don't want very 
 much. I ain't a bit hungry." 
 
 "Do you care for oysters?" 
 
 "Oh! yes. But you just order whatever you please. 
 Only not much." 
 
 Rawlings gave an order. He was without much 
 imagination in this particular and did not venture 
 very far. He selected oysters on the shell, a steak, some 
 potatoes and celery. He wondered whether it would 
 look well to order a cocktail of some sort, but decided 
 that he had better not. 
 
 While the order was being given, Asenath's eyes were 
 busy. She saw everything, but the women's costumes 
 particularly claimed her attention. She was supremely 
 happy. Her first embarrassment had worn off, and 
 while she was still somewhat excited, which was visible 
 only in her heightened color, she was quite comfortable 
 and able to enjoy the adventure to the full. 
 
 When the waiter departed, Rawlings engaged her in 
 conversation. He tried to draw her out, but found it 
 impossible. She did not respond to any of his leads. 
 She answered any direct question he put to her and 
 agreed with all of his statements either by word or 
 expression, but did not follow up any subject which he
 
 THECHOICE 85 
 
 introduced. At last, he asked her if she was fond of 
 dancing. 
 
 "I love it," said Asenath with warmth, "but I've 
 hardly ever had a chance to try it." 
 
 "How's that?" he asked. 
 
 "Well, you know papa thinks dancing's wrong." 
 
 "Oh, I suppose he would. I never thought of that. 
 How did you learn then?" 
 
 "Sue showed me at the exchange at lunch time. The 
 only time " She was about to tell of her dances with 
 Tom Holland, when she suddenly remembered Susan's 
 admonition on this subject and was silent. Rawlings 
 waited for her to finish her sentence, but as she made 
 no move to do so, he asked : 
 
 "What were you going to say? You said 'the only 
 time.'" 
 
 "Oh! I was just thinking," she answered. She would 
 have liked to change the subject but no lead came to 
 her. Rawlings waited again without result. At last, he 
 asked: 
 
 "Thinking of what?" 
 
 "Oh! just thinking." 
 
 The waiter saved her by bringing the oysters. After 
 he had gone, Rawlings said: 
 
 "You and Miss Collins are great friends, aren't you?" 
 
 "Yes/' said Asenath. 
 
 "Were you acquainted with her before you went to 
 the telephone company?"
 
 86 THE CHOICE 
 
 "No." 
 
 "What sort of a girl is she?" 
 
 "She's lovely." 
 
 "What kind of people are her family?" 
 
 "I've never met any of them." 
 
 "Have you never been at their house?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 "I don't know. I've just never gone. Sue always 
 comes to our house." 
 
 "Is she bright?" 
 
 "Oh! yes. She's wonderful." 
 
 "Wonderful? How?" 
 
 "Oh! I don't know. She just knows how to do any- 
 thing." 
 
 "She seems very bright," said Rawlings, remembering 
 the favorable impression she had made at the meal at 
 McBrides'. "I suppose they're very poor people." 
 
 "I guess so," answered Asenath. 
 
 Their talk was much like this. Rawlings liked to 
 talk about himself and tried to get Asenath to make 
 an opportunity for him, but she never did. Finally, 
 he gave up waiting for her to give him the lead and 
 made it for himself. She listened attentively to all he 
 said and gave every indication of cordial interest and 
 approval in her facial expression, but she said nothing. 
 Rawlings was nonplused. He was used to flattery and 
 this girl gave him none of it. She was scarcely more
 
 THE CHOICE 87 
 
 than a child, and certainly she could not be used to the 
 kind of entertainment he was offering her, yet she 
 seemed as composed and self-possessed as though this 
 was an everyday affair, accepting all he offered without 
 comment of any kind. 
 
 He had never been so much interested by any girl. 
 He was sure, now that he had seen her to advantage, 
 having been her sole companion for more than an 
 hour, that she was more beautiful than anyone he 
 had ever known. And it was not mere beauty of face; 
 she had a carriage, a grace, a presence which were 
 thoroughly in keeping. Her smile was particularly 
 lovely. When he saw it, he was conscious of a thrill of 
 pleasure. He no longer thought of his primary object in 
 inviting her. That was gone and in its stead he felt 
 only the desire to please her. 
 
 They finished their dinner and he led her to the 
 women's room. When she re-appeared, he had ordered 
 another taxi, although they were less than half a dozen 
 blocks from their destination and it was a clear, mild 
 evening. 
 
 Asenath disappointed him because she made no com- 
 ment on his extravagance, but acted as though she were 
 accustomed to just this sort of thing. He wanted the 
 opportunity to say something in justification of his 
 magnificence, but her silence gave him no opening. The 
 discomfiture which he felt acted as a spur. He was deter- 
 mined to compel some expression of admiration.
 
 88 THE CHOICE 
 
 The concert was a wonderful experience for Asenath. 
 Good music appealed to her. She did not understand any 
 part of its technique, as her whole musical education was 
 limited to what little she had learned at the public 
 school. But, even without understanding, her pleasure 
 was complete. She gave herself up to undefined, blissful 
 emotion. Almost all of the good music she had ever 
 heard was confined to the better parts of the music at 
 the church. The organist was a man of taste and used 
 as much good material as was possible. 
 
 In the intervals between the numbers, Rawlings made 
 comments on the quality of the performance, find- 
 ing some parts admirable and others unsatisfactory. 
 Asenath agreed with his approval and listened to his 
 disapproval. To her it was all beautiful. 
 
 When it was over, he proposed that they dance for 
 a little while before going home. Another taxi took them 
 back to the restaurant in which they had dined. In the 
 three dances which they permitted themselves, Rawlings 
 found that he had never had a more satisfactory partner. 
 She seemed to divine his intention almost before it came 
 to him. He found himself regretting the necessity for 
 taking her home early. 
 
 At eleven o'clock there was another taxi, and ten 
 minutes later he heard her say : " I've had a lovely time. 
 Thank you ever so much. Good-night."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 IF Rawlings could have heard the conversation 
 between Asenath and her mother which began imme- 
 diately after his departure and lasted until nearly 
 one o'clock, he would have been perfectly satisfied with 
 himself as a paragon of entertainers. But this joy was 
 denied him and he sat in his taxi on the way home a 
 prey to decidedly mixed emotions. 
 
 Of one emotion he was poignantly aware and that 
 was that he wanted to see Asenath again as soon as 
 possible. He tried to convince himself that this was not 
 true, that nothing had happened to alter his hitherto 
 complete self-sufficiency, but he could not do it. He 
 wanted to be with her. Out of the evening's happen- 
 ings, many were far from satisfactory to him. He had 
 had no specific acknowledgment of his lavish gener- 
 osity. There had been no definite recognition of his 
 attractiveness. There had been no flattery. He did not 
 admit to himself that he wanted these expressly, but he 
 felt their absence. It seemed to him that, underlying 
 Asenath's graciousness, there was a coolness, an aloof- 
 ness which implied some inadequacy on his part. He 
 tried to analyze the cause of his dissatisfaction but 
 could not. There was no distinct action of hers nor 
 any part of her demeanor with which he could find 
 fault, and yet it seemed to him that he had been held 
 
 89
 
 90 THE CHOICE 
 
 at arm's length by this mere chit, and it annoyed him. 
 
 But still, he wanted to see her again. Her image was 
 before him, the sensation of her body in his arms as they 
 danced was yet warm. What had come over him? This 
 was a new experience and one he did not like. It hurt his 
 pride. Always before, on the somewhat rare occasions 
 on which he had acted as a cavalier, he had come away 
 with a sense of satisfaction. The girl had always shown 
 her gratitude impressively, had always made him feel 
 rather magnificent. This had given him the opportunity 
 to dispense favor or to withhold it with no other object 
 than the gratification of his vanity. 
 
 Suddenly it occurred to him that tomorrow would be 
 Sunday and he could see her at church. A surge of joy 
 overcame him at the thought. It would be only a few 
 hours. And then came a realization that it would never 
 do to show his feeling so plainly. He would not go to 
 church at all next day. There were plenty of reasons 
 for his remaining away. 
 
 No sooner had the door of the McBrides' house closed 
 than Mrs. McBride said: 
 
 " Tell me all about it. Youhad a fine time, didn't you? " 
 
 "Grand," declared Asenath. "I never had a better 
 time. He's awful liberal. Just think, four taxis, one to go 
 to the restaurant, one to go to the concert, one to go 
 back to the restaurant " 
 
 "Did you go back there? What for?" asked Mrs. 
 McBride,.
 
 THECHOICE 91 
 
 "We had some lemonade," answered her daughter, 
 suddenly remembering that it would be quite as well 
 not to mention dancing. 
 
 "And one to come home," said Mrs. McBride. "I 
 think that's extravagance. What did you have for 
 supper?" 
 
 "Raw oysters, steak, potatoes, celery, ice cream. 
 Oh! It was lovely. There were flowers on the table, and 
 he made me take some of them to wear. I left them in 
 the taxi. It's a beautiful place and everything's so nice 
 and quiet." 
 
 " How was the concert? " 
 
 "Fine." 
 
 And so on until Mrs. McBride had exhausted her 
 capacity for questioning and Asenath had told every- 
 thing she could think of. 
 
 There was one question, however, that Mrs. McBride 
 did not ask, but it was constantly in her mind. It grew 
 out of the possibility that Rawlings might become a 
 suitor for her daughter's hand. This was but motherly 
 interest. Nothing could be more natural. To have her 
 daughter marry a man of Rawlings' evident wealth, not 
 to mention his superior social position, seemed ambitious 
 indeed, but then, ambitious or not, she was sure that 
 he could not do better. It was true the McBrides were 
 not rich, but they were as good as anybody. 
 
 Asenath got into bed but did not sleep. She was far 
 too happy. Ah, life was good and she was a lucky girl.
 
 92 THE CHOICE 
 
 In all of her dreams, she had never fancied that such 
 luxury might be hers. She knew that there were fine 
 restaurants; that there must be many elegances within 
 the command of the rich; that there were servants to 
 do their bidding, automobiles to carry them wherever 
 they wished; but that she should enjoy them without 
 stint, that all of this should actually come to her, she 
 had never seriously imagined. Rawlings must be very 
 rich. Otherwise he never would have been able to spend 
 such enormous sums so freely. She wondered whether 
 she had borne herself well, whether she had done what 
 he expected. 
 
 And then she wondered why he had done all of this 
 for her. It must be that he liked her, that he found her 
 worthy of his attentions. What would Susan say when 
 she heard it? Would she be jealous? No, Susan was above 
 that; she would be pleased to hear it. Would she think 
 Rawlings was fond of her? Was he? 
 
 And then came another question: 
 
 Was she fond of Rawlings? Of course, she liked him. 
 It was fine to be with him. He talked so well. He was so 
 much a man of the world. He just ordered those taxis 
 and their dinner as though it was the most ordinary 
 thing imaginable. Of course, she liked him. And then 
 came a memory of Lamed and a comparison. Would he 
 have done as much for her? She could not answer, but 
 she felt that there was something about him that was 
 missing in Rawlings; she could not tell what, but it was
 
 THE CHOICE 93 
 
 something that made him stand out before her as, well, 
 just different. But this was silly. What right had she to 
 think of him? She had not had the common decency to 
 acknowledge his gift. 
 
 Ah well, it had been a lovely evening and perhaps she 
 might have another like it. Rawlings certainly must have 
 enjoyed it as well. He had complimented her on her 
 dancing. He danced beautifully, too. When he led her, 
 she could just lose herself in the joy of it. She had wanted 
 to tell him how well he danced, but the words simply 
 would not come. Next time, perhaps, if there was a 
 next time and she fell asleep.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 SUSAN'S first emotion when she learned that 
 Rawlings had invited Asenath to go to the con- 
 cert with him was jealousy. For a moment she was 
 angry and felt that her friend had not used her well. But 
 it was only for a moment, and then her good sense 
 resumed the mastery. It was obvious that this invita- 
 tion had not come through any seeking of Asenath 
 and certainly any estrangement between the two girls 
 would stand in the way of the realization of Susan's 
 hopes. But it was not all self-interest on her part. She 
 was really very fond of Asenath and their friendship 
 was a reality, while her ambition with regard to Rawlings 
 was no more than a dream. 
 
 On the Sunday following Asenath's evening with 
 Rawlings, Susan appeared at McBrides' house shortly 
 after breakfast. She and Asenath promptly retired to the 
 latter's room and, without any preliminaries, entered into 
 a discussion of the happenings of the preceding evening. 
 
 "Tell me all about it," said Susan, "from the very 
 beginning." 
 
 Asenath went over the matter in some detail. The 
 principal emphasis was laid on the four taxis, the ele- 
 gance of the restaurant, the dance after the concert. 
 
 "He's some swell provider, ain't he?" said Susan 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 94
 
 THE CHOICE 95 
 
 "He's just grand," said Asenath. 
 
 "How was he to you?" inquired Susan. 
 
 "How do you mean?" asked her friend. 
 
 "Oh! you know. Did he act as though he liked you?" 
 
 "I don't know. He was awful nice." 
 
 "Did he tell you anything like he liked you?" 
 
 "No, He said he liked to dance with me." 
 
 "How did he say it?" 
 
 "I don't remember just how." 
 
 "He wasn't kind of soft, was he?" 
 
 "Oh! no. He was a perfect gentleman." 
 
 "He must be awful rich." 
 
 "I guess so." 
 
 " I guess he put more than one ten-spot on the blink." 
 
 "Ten-spot?" this questioningly from Asenath. 
 
 "Ten dollar bill, I mean." 
 
 There was much more talk on the subject before they 
 finished with it. Susan was not quite sure whether 
 Asenath was not withholding from her some indication 
 of special interest in her on Rawlings' part. All of her 
 questioning, however, failed to disclose any, and she 
 was forced to content herself. She could not understand 
 how any young man could devote such attention to a 
 girl unless he was much smitten with her. While she 
 was pondering this question, it occurred to her that 
 perhaps Rawlings had taken Asenath to the concert 
 merely to make some return for his invitation to the 
 McBrldes', and thenceforward her serenity was complete.
 
 96 THE CHOICE 
 
 The two girls accompanied McBride to church. 
 Mrs. McBride rarely went on Sunday mornings, as she 
 had the dinner to prepare. When they reached the 
 church, Susan was on the lookout for Rawlings, but 
 failed to see him. In fact, he had not arrived, but, in 
 spite of his resolution of the night before, he came in 
 shortly after they did and took a seat directly in back 
 of them. Susan happened to turn immediately after he 
 came in, saw him and, at the first favorable opportunity, 
 whispered to Asenath, "He's sitting just behind us." 
 
 "Who?" asked Asenath. 
 
 "You know, Mr. Rawlings." 
 
 It came over Asenath suddenly that Rawlings had 
 come to church to see her. Not that he was not a 
 regular attendant; he was seldom absent from any of 
 the services or other functions. But that he should sit 
 so near to her seemed significant. She could not have 
 offered any valid reason for her belief. His having taken 
 that seat might well have been purely accidental. He 
 may not even have thought that he was choosing a 
 seat which happened to be near hers. She felt somewhat 
 excited, an excitement in which there was a slight feeling 
 of triumph. Susan was more excited than Asenath, but 
 by reason of very different emotions. When the service 
 was over and the congregation had risen to depart, 
 Rawlings greeted them. 
 
 McBride acknowledged his greeting and walked off. 
 He wanted to talk about some church matter to one
 
 THE CHOICE 97 
 
 of the trustees. This left Rawlings with the two girls. 
 
 "A fine sermon, wasn't it?" he said. 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath, but to tell the truth, not a 
 word of it had penetrated her inner consciousness. 
 
 "I don't see how anybody could ever know so much 
 as Mr. Harmon," said Susan. "It's just wonderful. 
 Why, he talks about lots of things I didn't ever know 
 were in books. Lots of it goes clean over my poor ," 
 she paused, for she was just about to say "bean," but 
 caught herself and finished with the right word. 
 
 "Yes," said Rawlings, "he has a wonderful mind." 
 
 They started to walk down the aisle, still discussing 
 the sermon. Rawlings did most of the talking, Susan a 
 little and Asenath none at all. Asenath was very happy, 
 and, strange to say, Rawlings was perfectly content 
 simply to be with her in spite of the presence of Susan, 
 with whom he was forced, by Asenath's silence, to do 
 all of the talking. 
 
 When they reached the entrance, Rawlings spoke to 
 Asenath. 
 
 "You seem none the worse for your dissipation of 
 last night," he said, with a smile. 
 
 "No, indeed," she answered, "I feel fine." She would 
 have liked to add something about her enjoyment of 
 the evening but it simply wouldn't come to her lips. 
 So instead, she asked: 
 
 "How are you feeling this morning?" 
 
 "Very well," he answered, delighted at this show of
 
 98 THE CHOICE 
 
 personal interest. "I'm always well. I suppose you are, 
 too." 
 
 "Yes," she answered. "I can't remember the last 
 time I was sick. I guess the last time was when I was a 
 little kid and had the measles or mumps or some such 
 sickness." 
 
 Rawlings noted how particularly agreeable her voice 
 was this morning, and how bright and fresh she looked. 
 Asenath found him very pleasant and their conversation 
 extraordinarily interesting. 
 
 "Are you going to walk home?" Rawlings asked as 
 he saw McBride approaching them. 
 
 "I guess so, we almost always walk. Are you going 
 our way?" 
 
 "Why! Yes. For a few blocks anyway." 
 
 Susan had been a silent listener during this conversa- 
 tion. But her wits had been busy and as a result she was 
 convinced that Rawlings was infatuated with Asenath. 
 It came to her with a sudden pang. She wanted to be 
 away from them to think it over. She would have been 
 happy to have had the opportunity to miss the Sunday 
 dinner at McBrides', but she had no satisfactory excuse 
 to offer. 
 
 When McBride reached them and announced that 
 they had better be going, Susan walked off with him, 
 leaving Asenath to Rawlings. She did this as gracefully 
 as she could, so that he might take it as having been 
 done without design. Rawlings, however, was extremely
 
 THE CHOICE 99 
 
 self-conscious and felt that his being alone with Asenath 
 would furnish food for gossip. If he had been able to 
 think clearly, it would have occurred to him that 
 Susan's presence would not have altered matters in 
 this respect. He would have been much more com- 
 fortable had he left Asenath when McBride came 
 up, but he had not done so. At the same time, he felt 
 a great joy at being with her, which fully compensated 
 for his discomfort. He walked only two blocks with 
 her and their talk was utterly perfunctory, except what 
 passed between them just as he was about to leave her. 
 
 "I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did last 
 evening," he said. 
 
 "I had the loveliest time ever," she answered; "it was 
 perfectly sweet." 
 
 "I'm glad you enjoyed it. We'll try it again soon, 
 shall we?" 
 
 "I'd love to. Thanks ever so much." 
 
 "Good-bye," he said, and left without attempting to 
 offer any farewell to the others, who had gone on ahead. 
 
 Asenath ran after them. She was delighted. The 
 prospect of another evening such as the last, now that 
 she knew what it meant, was a great joy. Really, she 
 was a lucky girl, and Rawlings was certainly a fine, 
 liberal man. He must like her a lot. Hadn't May Wilson 
 said that he almost never went out with any of the girls. 
 True, there was Laura Mitchell, but then she was an 
 old maid (she was twenty-six years old) and, at any
 
 100 THE CHOICE 
 
 rate, May had said that he only went out with Laura 
 about once a year and here he was out with her 
 (Asenath) only last night and she already had another 
 invitation. These thoughts and many more of the same 
 tenor passed through her mind as she walked home 
 with her father and Susan. During the meal, she said 
 nothing of the new invitation, but repeated her con- 
 versation with Rawlings, at least as much as she could 
 remember, to Susan on the way to Sunday School. 
 
 It was a confirmation of what Susan had seen and 
 it added to her trouble. Asenath did not notice her 
 friend's altered demeanor. For once, she was talkative 
 and discussed every aspect of the new invitation, 
 even to the remote possibility of getting some little 
 thing to alter, if ever so slightly, her costume of the 
 evening before. Gradually, Susan recovered her poise. 
 She said to herself "there are others," but she was not 
 convinced, and there remained a depression which 
 made it impossible for her to take her usual lively 
 interest in all that surrounded her. 
 
 Rawlings came neither to Sunday School nor to the 
 evening services. He remained at home, complaining 
 of a headache. In fact, he was rather acutely miserable 
 most of the time. He was full of regret at his having 
 been carried away by his desire to see Asenath into 
 publishing his preference for her. Even in the midst of 
 this regret, the desire to see her, to be with her was so 
 strong that it was almost painful. He called himself a
 
 THE CHOICE 101 
 
 silly ass, and resolved that it must be all over and 
 done with. Philandering of any kind was out of his 
 line. He had no time for frivolity. He must make his 
 way in the world. No, he would not see her again, 
 even if he had to give up his carefully established 
 position in the Second Presbyterian Church and begin 
 afresh elsewhere. 
 
 And then, having made this resolution, he felt 
 much better, which is only, in this instance, another 
 way of saying that he felt much worse. What he 
 actually wanted was Asenath, and not to be deprived 
 of her, and what he merely thought he wanted was his 
 independence. 
 
 Then, suddenly, he remembered his invitation to 
 Asenath made only this morning. He was so delighted 
 at the thought of this obligation to see her again that 
 he forgot that only a moment before he had been 
 gravely admiring his own firmness in determining not 
 to see her again. 
 
 He wondered how soon it would be possible to make 
 the invitation effective.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 RVWLINGS saw Asenath at church on Wednes- 
 day evening. He had determined to invite her 
 to accompany him to an illustrated lecture of 
 travel which was to be given on Thursday evening of 
 the next week. His first impulse was to ask her to go 
 to the theatre with him, but he remembered that she 
 had told him her father's strict views with regard to 
 the sinfulness of this form of entertainment. It really 
 made no difference to him where they went. One thing 
 was as good as another provided she was with him. 
 
 Of course, he was not always in this mood. Half of 
 the time, he was intensely disgusted with himself. He 
 could not understand why he should be unable to cast 
 aside his desire for this girl. His pride compelled him 
 to look upon his infatuation, he did not call it this, 
 as a merely temporary condition, and was confident 
 that it would soon pass off. 
 
 But the rest of the time, he simply was enthralled 
 by his memory of her and did not reason at all. 
 
 Asenath accepted his invitation gladly. Lecture, 
 concert or any other form of entertainment was equally 
 welcome to her as long as it meant that a man, and this 
 man, perhaps, rather than any other, was offering her, 
 not merely the luxury she had once tasted, but his 
 companionship, his attention as well. Of course, the 
 
 102
 
 THECHOICE 103 
 
 luxury made it all the better. Asenath did not analyze 
 these feelings, she merely experienced them. 
 
 They were together only a few minutes on Wednesday 
 evening. On Sunday morning, Rawlings did not come 
 to church at all. In the afternoon, he left without 
 speaking to Asenath, and on Sunday evening she 
 was not there; Mrs. McBride had a headache and 
 wanted Asenath to remain with her. 
 
 Rawlings saw Asenath again for a little while on 
 Wednesday evening. He came up to her while she was 
 in the company of Susan and May Wilson. The talk 
 was brief and general, and he came away utterly un- 
 satisfied. He did not like May at all, and he did not 
 enjoy the prospect of having her discuss his attentions 
 to Asenath. He felt as though there had been a number 
 of things which he had wished to mention to Asenath; 
 he could not remember just what they were while he 
 was with her, nor could he do so now. He felt that he 
 had been driven away from her by the presence of the 
 other two girls, particularly May, and he resented her 
 association with them. He could not understand how 
 she, who, even at the first glance, outshone them in 
 every way, could be willing to endure their society at all. 
 
 The invitation for the lecture had not included din- 
 ner. Rawlings would have liked to have had this addi- 
 tional time with her, but feared that it would seem as 
 though he were "laying it on a bit too thick," as he 
 expressed it to himself. Of course, he called for her in a
 
 104 THE CHOICE 
 
 taxi (Asenath wondered if he ever walked) and when 
 they reached the hall in which the lecture was to be 
 given, they were very early. This gave them plenty of 
 time for talk. 
 
 One of the pauses in their conversation was broken 
 by Asenath. 
 
 "Do you know a man named Larned?" she asked. 
 
 "Who? Hal Larned?" 
 
 "Yes. Harold Prentis Larned. He's a professor in the 
 High School." 
 
 " Sure, I know him. We went to school together. But 
 I haven't seen him for a long time. Do you know him?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Where did you meet him?" 
 
 "At my Uncle William's farm last summer." 
 
 "Dear old Hal. He's a queer fish, isn't he?" 
 
 " I think he's grand," said Asenath with much more 
 warmth than she had ever shown in Rawlings' presence. 
 
 "Oh! he's all right," said Rawlings. "I only meant 
 that he's sort of unusual." 
 
 Asenath said nothing, and Rawlings suddenly found 
 that he was very curious to know just how well she 
 knew Larned and how it was that she had been so quick 
 to resent his being called queer. What on earth was 
 coming over him, he wondered, that he should feel dis- 
 turbed merely because Asenath showed some interest 
 in another man. But this self -questioning did not relieve 
 him of the feeling of irritation. Every now and then,
 
 THE CHOICE 105 
 
 during the lecture, this idea of Asenath's interest in 
 Larned came back to him and made him vaguely uneasy. 
 
 After the lecture was over, he proposed dancing and 
 Asenath readily assented. During the first intermission, 
 he brought up the subject of Larned again. 
 
 "You were at your uncle's farm for several weeks, 
 weren't you?" he asked. 
 
 "Only one week," she answered. 
 
 "Was Larned there all that time?" 
 
 "Oh! no. Only one night and the next morning. He 
 was out in an automobile with another man and they 
 had a breakdown right in front of Uncle William's, 
 and they stayed there until the new machinery came." 
 
 " I see," said Rawlings. He was much relieved. 
 
 There was a short silence which was broken by 
 Asenath. 
 
 "Do you know a picture ?" she began and then 
 stopped. She was going to ask whether Rawlings thought 
 she resembled the picture of Madame Vigee le Brun, 
 but she was afraid to attempt the pronunciation of the 
 name. 
 
 "Yes," said Rawlings, not in assent but in encourage- 
 ment so that she might proceed. Anything from Asen- 
 ath's lips was portentous to him. 
 
 "Oh, it's nothing particular," said Asenath, hoping to 
 escape the difficulty she feared. 
 
 But Rawlings' interest was thoroughly aroused. 
 
 "What picture?" he asked.
 
 106 THE CHOICE 
 
 "You know & picture of a lady and her little girl." 
 
 "Is it one of the Madonnas?" he asked. 
 
 Asenath was very hazy on Madonnas and feared to 
 commit herself. 
 
 "She painted it herself," she said; "she was an artist." 
 
 "What was her name?" 
 
 Asenath did not know how to lie. It was not a matter 
 of ethics with her, but one of technique only. 
 
 "It's a French name. I can't say it." 
 
 "Try it," he pleaded. He would have been utterly 
 unable to account for his interest. 
 
 "You'll laugh at me," she said hesitatingly. 
 
 "No, I won't, really." 
 
 "It's it's I can't say it. Please don't ask me." 
 
 "I wish you would try. I won't laugh at you." 
 
 Asenath saw no escape. She must make the attempt. 
 
 "It's Madame Viggy lee Brun,"she said desperately. 
 She pronounced the last part of the name so that it 
 rhymed with "bun." She knew that this was not the 
 way Larned had said it, but it was the best she could do. 
 Really, it made no difference in this case, for Rawlings 
 had never heard the name. Like almost every one else, 
 he had seen many reproductions of the picture, but he 
 had no taste, either natural or acquired, for works of 
 art, and, while he would have recognized the picture 
 immediately, had it been shown him, as one that he had 
 often seen before, it was in his memory negatively 
 only.
 
 THE CHOICE 107 
 
 The name, then, not communicating anything to him, 
 he went on: 
 
 "Tell me about it." 
 
 "Do you know what picture I mean?" she asked. 
 
 "In a general way, yes," he said, hoping that this 
 would pass. 
 
 "Oh! well. It don't make any difference," she said. 
 
 But he pressed her. 
 
 "It's just foolishness," was the best he could get 
 from her. And then the music began again, which meant 
 dancing instead of talk. 
 
 On the way home, he asked her again to tell him about 
 the picture, and at last she said: 
 
 "Mr. Larned told me I looked like the lady in the 
 picture and he sent me a copy of it. That's all." 
 
 "Will you show it to me?" he asked, wondering just 
 how much impression Larned had made on her. The 
 fact that Larned had sent her the picture seemed very 
 significant to Rawlings, although it is extremely doubt- 
 ful whether he could have told of what it was significant. 
 
 Asenath said she would show him the picture when 
 she reached home if he would come into the house for 
 a minute. So, when the taxi stopped in front of McBrides' 
 house, he got out and went in with her. She had been 
 given the door key, consequently they encountered 
 neither of the other members of the family. 
 
 Asenath lit up the parlor and showed him in. Then 
 she went upstairs, to return a minute later with he
 
 108 THECHOICE 
 
 picture. She handed it to Rawlings. He recognized it at 
 once as quite familiar, but now, for the first time, was 
 he aware of its beauty and, at the same time, of its 
 likeness to her. 
 
 "Stand over here, under the light, so that I can see," 
 he said, and, as he spoke, he unconsciously touched her 
 shoulder with a gentle pressure indicating the direction. 
 
 He looked at her fixedly for a full minute, and then 
 again at the picture. 
 
 "It's very much like you," he said at length. "She's 
 very beautiful, isn't she?" he asked quite unconscious 
 of the directness of the compliment. 
 
 But it was not too direct for Asenath. She was de- 
 lighted and her smile of pleasure told him that he had 
 made her happy. It did more, it intoxicated him. 
 
 "Asenath," he said, using this name for the first 
 time, "you are the most beautiful " 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Rawlings," she began, feeling that it was 
 essential to offer some deprecation. 
 
 "Don't call me Mr. Rawlings, please. Call me Jim, 
 won't you? " 
 
 "All right," she said, "but" 
 
 "But what? "he asked. 
 
 "I don't know. It seems so strange." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "That you should be so nice to me." 
 
 "Do you think I'm nice to you?" 
 
 "You've been just lovely. I don't know why."
 
 THE CHOICE 109 
 
 "Can't you imagine?" he asked. 
 
 "No," she answered, truthfully. 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "Really." 
 
 "Doesn't it occur to you that I might like you?" 
 
 Asenath was silent. She was totally at a loss for an 
 appropriate answer. She looked at him fixedly, with an 
 expression of uncertainty, but above all, a look of help- 
 lessness, as though she were depending on him for 
 something or other, she didn't know what. And neither 
 did he. He saw the look and, misunderstanding it, took 
 it to stand for her admiration of his strength. He 
 ascribed her silence to a maidenly modesty which he 
 found utterly charming. He gave her ample opportunity 
 to answer, and then went on: 
 
 "You don't dislike me, I hope." 
 
 "Oh! No!" she said firmly. She would have liked to 
 say more, but couldn't. Instead she put out both of her 
 hands, a gesture so appealing to Rawlings that, as he 
 took them in his own, he was simply intoxicated with 
 joy. She still looked him straight in the eyes, and he, 
 scarcely knowing what he did, brought his face to hers 
 and kissed her almost abruptly. 
 
 "Oh, Asenath, my dear," he said, "you're simply 
 wonderful." 
 
 "Am I? " she asked; she was both pleased and puzzled. 
 It had been rather nice to have him kiss her, but, some- 
 how or other, there seemed to be something lacking.
 
 110 THE CHOICE 
 
 And then Rawlings awoke to a realization of what he 
 had done, taking merely his own standard of conduct 
 into account. He was thoroughly frightened by his own 
 action. However, that action had been accomplished 
 and there was no undoing it. 
 
 "Are you glad?" he asked. 
 
 "Glad? "she queried. 
 
 "Yes; glad at what has come to us," he said rather 
 solemnly. 
 
 "Of course I am, but " She wondered why he was 
 making such a fuss about a mere kiss. 
 
 "But what? "he asked. 
 
 She thought that she ought to make some kind of pro- 
 test for form's sake, so she said : 
 
 "Do you think it's right?" 
 
 "Of course I do," said Rawlings much more stoutly 
 than was warranted by his actual feeling at the moment. 
 "When a man and woman love each other, and 
 there are no real reasons against it, the only thing for 
 them to do after they have declared their love is to 
 marry." 
 
 It began to dawn upon Asenath that there was some- 
 thing in the wind besides a mere kiss. It gave her an 
 unusual kind of excitement. It was expectancy, on a 
 grand scale, at the very moment when the issue is to 
 be decided, when success could mean only triumph. 
 
 They looked at each other in silence for a brief 
 instant. Asenath was the first to speak.
 
 THE CHOICE 111 
 
 "But you haven't declared " She stopped. She was 
 afraid to go on. There was too much risk. 
 
 "Not in words, my dear," he answered. "But I kissed 
 you and to me a kiss is a declaration of love. I know that 
 there are men who look upon kissing as of no conse- 
 quence, but I feel that only engaged people have the right 
 to kiss each other. And so, when I kissed you, it was a 
 declaration of love, in the fullest sense." 
 
 As he spoke, certainty came to her and with it a 
 feeling of victory, achievement. She was radiantly 
 happy now. Not in his love, for she had little or no 
 sense of that, nor in any love for him, for of that she 
 had none. It was simply having won, of having been 
 chosen, and it was no less joyful because she had made 
 no effort, nor had even contemplated it as a possibility. 
 What would her folks say; what would Susan say, 
 when she announced her engagement to the most 
 desirable eligible of their acquaintance? 
 
 "Are you happy?" he asked again. 
 
 "Oh! Yes," she answered. "What will mamma say, 
 I wonder?" 
 
 "We'll have to tell her at once," he answered. "I 
 mean tomorrow. I can come up tomorrow evening. 
 Or perhaps you will want to tell her yourself before 
 then." 
 
 "No," she said. "I'd much rather you'd tell her. I 
 won't say anything until you're here." She had a fear 
 that she might make some mistake.
 
 112 THE CHOICE 
 
 "All right, my dear, just as you say. I'll come to- 
 morrow evening. Or rather, this evening, for it's 
 after twelve. I must be going." 
 
 Asenath accompanied him to the door. He kissed 
 her again and said: 
 
 "Good-night, my love. God bless you." 
 
 "Good-night, Mist-^Jim."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A2NATH closed the door after Rawlings' taxi 
 had carried him away, went into the parlor, 
 extinguished the light, gathered up her wraps 
 and went into her room. When she had taken off her 
 hat, and laid it, with her coat, on the bed, she stood 
 before the mirror and looked long and fixedly at her 
 reflection. What she saw pleased her, for she smiled 
 encouragingly at the image. Finally she said, in a low 
 voice: 
 
 "How do you do, Mrs. Rawlings?" 
 
 She smiled her pleasure at the sound, and, after a 
 parting look at the mirror, she sat down on her rocking 
 chair, to think it all over. 
 
 How wonderful it was that it should be she whom 
 Mr. Rawlings loved. She caught herself with a start 
 as she found that she still thought of him as Mr. 
 Rawlings. In reparation, she repeated the idea with 
 the name of Jim substituted for the formal title. It 
 would be grand to be Mrs. Rawlings, to have a fine 
 house, and servants, and fine clothes, and an auto- 
 mobile, and to go to parties and dances. 
 
 What would Susan think of her then? Could she have 
 Susan for an associate? Yes; she could and she would. 
 She would never go back on Susan. How about telling 
 Susan in the morning? She would be sure to ask her 
 
 113
 
 114 THE CHOICE 
 
 all about the evening. Ought she tell her? Could she 
 tell her after she had agreed with Jim not to say any- 
 thing about it until he came the next evening? Wouldn't 
 Susan be struck when she heard the news? How would 
 it be not to say anything until she had her ring? Would 
 he bring the ring at once? She decided that he would, 
 and then she fell to wondering what it would be like. 
 Oh! she was surely a happy girl. 
 
 She sat for a long time and turned these thoughts 
 over and over in her mind. When she heard the clock 
 strike one, she got up, undressed and went to bed. 
 She lay awake for a short time only and then slept 
 like the tired child she was. 
 
 But her fiance did not sleep. All night long he 
 vacillated between extremes of joy and sadness. When- 
 ever he thought of Asenath he was exhilarated, ecstatic, 
 he cared for no one else in the world. With her as his 
 wife, it did not matter what happened. They would 
 be happy. And then he would think of her beauty, of 
 the warmth of her lips as he kissed them, of her soft 
 voice, of her charming smile. Time after time, during 
 the night, he was dropping off to sleep, lulled by these 
 dreams of happiness, when he would awake sharply 
 and be confronted with the difference between his 
 income and the cost of the kind of establishment he 
 thought essential to gentility. And then he thought of 
 the loss of his freedom. Not because he had ever made 
 any special use of it for the accomplishment of anything
 
 THE CHOICE 115 
 
 in particular, but just because he was going to lose it. 
 But, most of all, he dreaded the necessity of telling his 
 sister of his engagement. He knew her ideas in these 
 matters very well. She had married a man of means 
 and would look upon a marriage into a family like the 
 McBrides with consternation. He had no doubt that 
 Asenath's charm would make itself felt even with her, 
 but he was sure that it would not be enough, and so 
 on through the whole night. 
 
 However, in the morning, after his breakfast, he 
 felt better. He was thinking now about Asenath, and 
 not about himself. At his lunch hour, he went to a 
 jeweler and invested about one and a half months' 
 salary in a diamond ring. With that in his possession, 
 he felt that he had burned his bridges behind him and 
 was ready to go on. The die was cast. 
 
 As the afternoon wore on, he saw only happiness in 
 store for him. He was not going to be moved by any- 
 thing that anyone might say or think. After all, he 
 loved Asenath, of that he was as sure as though it were 
 a perfectly easy thing about which to reach a final 
 decision. If they could not have all of the luxuries at 
 first, what did it matter? Besides, Asenath surely was 
 accustomed to living simply. They would have plenty 
 and to spare. 
 
 Asenath's day was blissful in the extreme except at 
 lunch time, when she had to meet Susan's searching 
 questioning. Her work, it is true, was not quite up
 
 116 THE CHOICE 
 
 to her usual high standard, but she was not conscious 
 of it, nor was her superior's attention directed to it. 
 All day long, through her mind echoed and re-echoed 
 "I'm engaged" with hazy pictures of the magnificent 
 life she would lead as the wife of a rich man. 
 
 At lunch time, Susan was upon her at once with 
 demands for news of the preceding evening. Asenath 
 did not volunteer any information, but, at the same 
 time, she did not fail to answer any of Susan's questions 
 directly. Her answers were short and were confined 
 strictly to the subject of the question. Consequently, 
 Susan was thrown upon her own imagination entirely. 
 Finally, she said : 
 
 "Was that all that happened?" Asenath had only 
 taken her to the point of their coming home in the taxi. 
 
 "No," she answered. 
 
 "Did he say anything particular in the taxi?" 
 
 "No; we just talked." 
 
 "What about?" 
 
 "I don't remember exactly. Oh! yes, he was telling 
 me about a girl friend of his who's such a fine dancer." 
 
 "Did he go right away after he brought you home?" 
 
 "No, he came into the house for a little while." 
 
 Asenath then told her about showing Rawlings the 
 picture. 
 
 "Did he think it looked like you?" Susan asked. 
 
 "Yes; and he said it was beautiful." 
 
 "He ain't a bit crazy about you, is he?"
 
 THE CHOICE 117 
 
 This was embarrassing. Asenath was so much in 
 doubt as to what to say that she remained silent. Susan 
 went on: 
 
 "Did he say anything about seeing you again?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "He's coming to our house tonight." 
 
 "Look out, Queenie; the first thing you know you'll 
 be engaged." 
 
 Asenath again was silent, and Susan was sure that 
 something was being withheld from her. 
 
 "What's his excuse for coming so soon?" she asked. 
 
 "Excuse?" 
 
 "Yes, excuse. A fella don't call on a girl every night 
 without some excuse. What's his?" 
 
 Asenath again took refuge in silence. She felt that 
 she was bound to secrecy and she could not think of 
 anything that would satisfy Susan's curiosity and at 
 the same time hide the truth. Susan's suspicion that 
 something was afoot became conviction. 
 
 "Why don't you come across with the news?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Honest," said Asenath, "I'd love to tell you, but 
 I promised not to say anything yet." 
 
 "Oh! Tell me," said Susan. "I'll keep it dark. I'll 
 never let on you told me." 
 
 Asenath again took refuge in silence. She was torn 
 by conflicting emotions. She wanted, above all things,
 
 118 THE CHOICE 
 
 to tell Susan, but she felt that she must not. Finally 
 she said : 
 
 "I'll tell you everything tomorrow. You know how 
 it is." 
 
 Susan assented, taking Asenath's last statement as 
 an intentional admission of the truth while holding to 
 the letter of her promise. Asenath was relieved, for she 
 thought she had kept her word, and, while she feared 
 Susan might suspect something of the actual facts, 
 it could not be possible for her to imagine anything so 
 wonderful as what really had happened. 
 
 Asenath was in some doubt during the afternoon as 
 to the advisability of informing her mother of Rawlings' 
 coming. There had been no chance for any talk between 
 them in the morning, for Asenath had failed to get up 
 immediately when her mother called her and, due to 
 the late hour of her retiring, promptly fell asleep again. 
 When Mrs. McBride finally got her out of bed, she was 
 so hurried that talk was impossible. Asenath knew 
 that her mother would question her minutely with 
 regard to the doings of the evening before, and, if she 
 were given any hint of Rawlings' intention, it would 
 be impossible for Asenath to put her off as she had 
 Susan. Although she turned this problem over in her 
 mind many times, she was unable to reach a decision and 
 devoted her thoughts to more interesting things, among 
 which the engagement ring was easily the most attractive. 
 
 The McBrides ate their evening meal early. On this
 
 THE CHOICE 119 
 
 particular evening Asenath happened to meet her 
 father at the street corner where he alighted from the 
 trolley. As McBride's entrance was the signal for the 
 meal, they sat down almost immediately. It was a rule 
 with the women of the family not to introduce subjects 
 of conversation in McBride's presence. He invariably 
 took the initiative, and when a subject was exhausted, 
 they ate in silence until he offered another. This even- 
 ing, he asked Asenath if the lecture had been good, 
 what time she had come home, and where they had 
 been during the time which elapsed from the end of 
 the lecture and their return. Asenath answered briefly 
 without, of course, referring to their dancing. 
 
 After supper, when it was time to clear up, Asenath 
 asked her mother if she would mind doing the work 
 alone, as she wanted to change her clothes. 
 
 Mrs. McBride asked: 
 
 "Where are you going?" 
 
 " I ain't going anywhere," said Asenath, "but I want 
 to get out of these clothes I've been in all day. You don't 
 mind?" 
 
 Mrs. McBride marveled, but said nothing. Since 
 Asenath had been at the Telephone Company, she had 
 been of little help in the house. Mrs. McBride had 
 observed her increasing delinquency in this respect, but 
 had not made any question of it. Asenath usually had 
 the grace to obtain her mother's consent, and that was 
 a distinctly mitigating circumstance.
 
 120 THECHOICE 
 
 Mrs. McBride was curious to learn the details of 
 Asenath's evening with Rawlings. She cherished an 
 ambition in the outcome of this friendship and, there- 
 fore, hurried with her dishes, with the result that at 
 quarter to eight she was at Asenath's door claiming 
 admission. 
 
 She was much surprised to find Asenath in her best 
 dress, engaged in adding some final touches to her 
 toilette. 
 
 "What's the idea?" she cried. "What are you getting 
 all dressed up for?" 
 
 "What time is it?" asked Asenath, ignoring her 
 mother's question. 
 
 "It's nearly eight o'clock. What's going on?" 
 
 "Oh! nothing, mamma. Can't I get dressed up if I 
 want to?" 
 
 "Is that the way to answer your mother?" inquired 
 that lady with some asperity. 
 
 Asenath did not deign to answer. Instead she went 
 on with the arrangement of her collar. Mrs. McBride 
 stood for a little while awaiting a reply to her last 
 inquiry, but, receiving none, and having had consider- 
 able experience of the difficulty of making Asenath answer 
 when she was unwilling to do so, remembered her origi- 
 nal errand, and dropping into a chair, said amiably: 
 
 "Tell me about last night." 
 
 Asenath began to tell her mother of the happenings 
 of the evening before. She went into fine detail; detail
 
 THE CHOICE 121 
 
 of the catalogue variety, and not in any way interpre- 
 tive. Mrs. McBride interrupted her from time to time 
 with questions which were answered either monosyllab- 
 ically or not at all. Finally Asenath lost patience and 
 said petulantly: 
 
 "You ask me to tell you and then you keep on butting 
 in." 
 
 "My! but you're touchy this evening," exclaimed 
 Mrs. McBride. 
 
 Just then the front doorbell rang. The two women 
 were silent, listening to McBride's footsteps as he 
 went to open the door. They strained to hear what 
 passed between McBride and the caller, so that they 
 might identify him. A full second after Asenath knew 
 that her expectation had been realized, Mrs. McBride 
 loudly whispered : 
 
 " It sounds like Mr. Rawlings." 
 
 " It is him," said Asenath. 
 
 Just then Mr. McBride called to her to come down, 
 and she went. As she left the room, she said to her 
 mother: 
 
 "You'd better dress." 
 
 Mrs. McBride was completely mystified. Could it be 
 possible that she was so much excited that she did not 
 dare to put the question to herself. 
 
 "Asenath," she called. 
 
 But Asenath was on her way down the stairs and did 
 not answer. 

 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 WHEN Asenath came into the parlor, where her 
 father and Rawlings were conversing, she was 
 actively aware, perhaps for the first time in her 
 life, that McBride was without his coat. She knew in a 
 general way that he always ate his supper with this 
 garment removed, and she might have known that he 
 would not put it on to answer the ring of the doorbell. 
 It was the sight of him sitting with the well-groomed 
 Rawlings that brought it forcibly to her attention. She 
 had a fearful sense of shame. She wanted to apologize 
 for him but knew not how. 
 
 It had shocked Rawlings, too. He had come to the 
 house with joy in his heart. All of his doubts had van- 
 ished as the time approached for seeing Asenath and 
 claiming her for his own. His excitement as he rang the 
 doorbell was intense. He could feel the beating of his 
 heart and he experienced a sort of choking which made 
 him take voluntary deep breaths. 
 
 When the door opened, the sight of McBride in his 
 shirt sleeves disconcerted him. He wanted to run away. 
 He had come as to a temple in which was enshrined 
 a beautiful goddess, and he entered the house of an 
 ordinary workingman who was innocent of the com- 
 monest niceties of etiquette as understood by James 
 Rawlings. Even McBride's fairly civil salutation did 
 
 122
 
 THE CHOICE 123 
 
 not reassure him. Had it been more cordial, he might have 
 felt easier, but McBride was plainly astonished to see 
 him, and his salutation did not cover the question which 
 was plainly evident in his expression. In fact, he wondered 
 what on earth could have brought Rawlings again so soon. 
 
 Their conversation, which lasted for only a few 
 moments, was of the most perfunctory order. Both men 
 were uneasy and did not touch upon either of the two 
 subjects in which they were both interested, Asenath 
 and the church. 
 
 As soon as Asenath came into the room, McBride left. 
 This was his etiquette. He had no sooner gone than 
 Rawlings forgot him entirely in his joy at being with 
 Asenath. He came over to her and embraced her with 
 warmth. She accepted the evidence of his affection with 
 complete outward calmness, although inwardly she was 
 excited. 
 
 "You look perfectly beautiful this evening," he said 
 at length. 
 
 She showed her pleasure plainly. As usual, she would 
 have liked to make some disclaimer but could not think 
 of any. However, she determined to make some return, 
 and said: 
 
 "That's a pretty tie you have on." 
 
 "Do you think so?" he said, delighted that she had 
 noticed it. He was very particular in the choice of his 
 neckwear and had taken special pains in selecting the 
 one he was wearing this evening.
 
 124 THE CHOICE 
 
 Neither of them said anything noteworthy until Raw- 
 lings asked Asenath in what manner she wished to 
 communicate the news to her parents. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," she said; "what do you think?" 
 
 "I suppose you had better ask them to come in here 
 and then we can tell them. Do you want to do the 
 talking?" 
 
 "Oh! no," she said. "You do it." 
 
 "All right," he answered. 
 
 Asenath left the room and during her absence Raw- 
 lings tried to give form to the statement he was about 
 to make. Every phrase that came into his mind seemed 
 either too grandiloquent or too ordinary. 
 
 Asenath was gone for perhaps two or three minutes, 
 but it seemed much longer to Rawlings. She went first 
 to the dining room, where her father was reading the 
 evening paper. 
 
 "Papa," she said, "Mr. Rawlings wants to see you 
 and mamma." 
 
 "What for? "he asked. 
 
 "He'll tell you. Wait 'til I tell mamma." 
 
 "What's he doing here again so soon?" queried Mr. 
 McBride; "he was here only last night." 
 
 But Asenath had vanished. She went to her mother's 
 room, where that lady, in obedience to her daughter's 
 command, was completing her toilette. 
 
 "Aren't you dressed yet?" asked Asenath, rather 
 sharply.
 
 THE CHOICE 125 
 
 "I'll be through in a moment. What do you want?" 
 
 "Mr. Rawlings wants to see both of you in the parlor. 
 Hurry! Won't you?" 
 
 "What's he want?" inquired Mrs. McBride, almost 
 tremulously. Could it be possible ? but again she feared 
 to put the question, even to herself. 
 
 "He'll tell you," answered Asenath. "Hurry, please." 
 
 She rejoined Rawlings in the parlor. "They'll be here 
 in a moment," she said. 
 
 "Do they suspect anything?" he asked. 
 
 "No," said Asenath. "They asked what you wanted 
 and I said you'd tell them." 
 
 "You don't think they'll make any objection?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Why, what could they object to? They think a lot 
 of you!" 
 
 "They might think you're too young." 
 
 This was something that had not occurred to Asenath 
 and she had no answer ready. None was needed, however, 
 for at this moment McBride, with his coat on, at the 
 suggestion of his spouse, entered accompanied by the 
 partner of his joys and sorrows. 
 
 "Asenath said you wanted to see me," McBride 
 began. 
 
 "Yes," said Rawlings. "I wanted to tell you" He 
 hesitated, the phrase he had selected at the last moment 
 having gone from him suddenly. He looked at Mrs. 
 McBride.
 
 126 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Yes," said that lady in a tremor of excitement. 
 
 "The fact is," went on Rawlings, "I love Asenath, 
 and she loves me, and we'd like your consent. I know 
 she's very young but " 
 
 McBride was plainly surprised. He had not thought 
 of Asenath, to him a mere child, a very young girl, as 
 becoming engaged to be married. Of course, Rawlings' 
 request that he and his wife join them in the parlor had 
 suggested this possibility but he had rejected it. He did 
 not know what to say. 
 
 "She's very young," he said finally. 
 
 "She's near nineteen," said Mrs. McBride. She could 
 scarce contain her joy. 
 
 "We needn't be married right away," said Rawlings. 
 "I'm willing to wait." 
 
 McBride turned to Asenath. 
 
 "What have you got to say?" he asked. 
 
 "Please say 'yes'," she answered. 
 
 "Well, James," said McBride after a short pause, 
 "you're a grown man and I guess you know what you're 
 doing. I know you're a God-fearing man and that you've 
 got the right way of living. Asenath is only a child and 
 I didn't think she'd be thinking of getting married for 
 many a year yet, but if you've made up your minds, 
 why, God bless you." 
 
 Mrs. McBride would have liked to put in a word here, 
 but she had no opportunity. 
 
 "Mr. McBride," said Rawlings solemnly, "I promise,
 
 THE CHOICE 127 
 
 with God's help, to see that you don't regret taking me 
 for a son-in-law, and you, too," he added to Mrs. 
 McBride. 
 
 "My dear son," said that lady with unction. She was 
 anxious for the interview to close so that she might im- 
 mediately communicate with her sister around the corner. 
 
 Rawlings felt in his pocket and produced the box 
 containing the ring. He opened it and placed the ring 
 on the finger of Asenath's outstretched hand. 
 
 "Oh! Isn't it grand?" she asked her mother. 
 
 "It's gorgeous," said Mrs. McBride with enthusiasm. 
 
 Mr. McBride felt that he was no longer needed. Trans- 
 ports of any kind were unpleasant to him. He noted with 
 satisfaction the size of the stone, taking it as an indica- 
 tion of the affluence of his prospective son-in-law. 
 
 "You and Asenath'll have lots to talk about," he 
 said, "so we'd better be going. Come, mother," and they 
 left the room. 
 
 When they were gone, Rawlings began talking about 
 the future which he envisaged. He spoke of the work 
 they would do together in the church, of their helpful- 
 ness to each other, of their mutual trust. He even 
 considered the prospect of children and his ideas on 
 their upbringing. Asenath listened with apparent 
 attention, but really she was not more than half 
 conscious of what he said. She was in the clouds; the 
 ring upon her finger, the tangible evidence of her 
 victory, her established position, engaged most of her
 
 128 
 
 thought. At that, she followed Rawlings' words closely 
 enough to enable her to put in an occasional word or 
 two, which was all that was necessary. 
 
 However, when he took up the subject of the sort 
 of house they would be able to afford and the economy 
 they would be compelled to practice, Asenath's active 
 interest was aroused. 
 
 "You see, my dear," he said, "as things stand now, 
 I have only my salary and a very small income from 
 my grandmother's estate. Of course, we won't marry 
 right away, but even then, I can scarcely hope for any 
 great increase in my salary, and the income from the 
 estate won't change at all. We shall have to live very 
 carefully." 
 
 This was very unpleasant news to Asenath. Living 
 carefully had always been her portion. What was the 
 use of getting married if she had to live very carefully? 
 How about the servants? And the automobile? She 
 would have liked to speak her mind to Rawlings, but 
 she could not do it. He noticed her pre-occupation and 
 was disturbed by it. He wondered what could have 
 been the cause, and paused for a moment to give her 
 the opportunity to speak. But Asenath said nothing, 
 and Rawlings had no question ready for her. So, taking 
 her left hand in his right, as they were sitting side by side 
 on an old davenport, he resumed his talk. As he did so, 
 Asenath was again made conscious of her ring and was 
 once more visibly cheerful.
 
 THE CHOICE 129 
 
 "Of course," he went on, "three thousand dollars 
 a year isn't what you would call poverty, although it 
 isn't very much." 
 
 "Three thousand dollars!" exclaimed Asenath, de- 
 lighted. "That's an awful lot of money." To her the 
 sum seemed simply fabulous. She was used to incomes 
 that were computed at so much a week. Sixty dollars 
 in one week would also have appeared enormous to 
 her, although it would have seemed infinitely less than 
 three thousand a year. She knew her father received 
 twenty-five dollars a week and that he was very proud 
 of it. She was thoroughly reassured. 
 
 Rawlings saw her pleasure and was much eased 
 thereby. He felt that he had been quite right in his idea 
 that Asenath would not expect even as much as he 
 could give her. How sweet she was in her artless sim- 
 plicity; what a wonderful woman she would become 
 under his guidance. 
 
 Being now perfectly comfortable in his mind with regard 
 to their financial outlook, he continued the same topic. 
 
 "Some day I'll come in for quite a big fortune. I 
 don't know just how much, but more than I'll ever 
 want. It's money that was left to me by my grand- 
 father. My Uncle George out in California has the use 
 of it during his life and when he dies it comes to me. 
 But there's no use counting on that for a good many 
 years, for Uncle George is one of those old fellows who'll 
 live forever."
 
 130 THE CHOICE 
 
 But Asenath had no interest in any such remote con- 
 tingency. Beyond three thousand dollars there was no 
 counting for her; it was terra incognita. 
 
 Rawlings paused and, leaning over, kissed her. "Are 
 you happy?" he asked tenderly. 
 
 "Oh! Yes," she said with emphasis. "Tell me about 
 your sister." 
 
 This was an unfortunate subject for Rawlings and 
 the last thing he wanted to think about. For the 
 moment, he had completely forgotten the necessary 
 discussion of his engagement with her. He knew it 
 would be an ordeal and, just now, he wanted to be 
 perfectly happy. However, he was compelled to put 
 the best face possible on the matter. There was no 
 advantage whatever in advising Asenath of the resist- 
 ance he expected. 
 
 "She's a very fine woman," he said. "I'm sure you'll 
 be ever so fond of each other when you get to be well 
 acquainted. She goes out a good deal with some pretty 
 swell people, and I don't imagine that we'll meet a 
 whole lot after we're married. Raymond Dunne, that's 
 my brother-in-law, comes of an old family here who are 
 right in it. They've all got piles of money. Raymond's 
 family are all Episcopalians and when Mary married 
 him, she naturally went to his church. Did you ever 
 see her? She used to come to our church before she 
 was married." 
 
 "I don't think so," said Asenath. "Is she pretty?"
 
 THE CHOICE 131 
 
 And so on and so on. Empty as the conversation 
 would be to an outsider, to the participants it was 
 interesting in the highest degree. Rawlings did most 
 of the talking and did not notice that he did so. Asen- 
 ath's expression told him plainly how enjoyable she 
 found the new experience. She listened with an air 
 of intentness that was most flattering; she accepted 
 his caresses without either resistance or complete 
 abandonment and, consequently, when he left her at 
 about half -past ten, he was in the clouds in the fullness 
 of his joy. 
 
 He had arranged that she was to call him on the 
 telephone the next day, Saturday, early in the after- 
 noon. Every detail of this appointment had been gone 
 over thoroughly, so that there would be no mistake made 
 on either side. They were then to arrange for their next 
 meeting. 
 
 Asenath found her mother awaiting her in her room 
 after Rawlings' departure. Mrs. McBride wanted details 
 and she heard them, at least to the extent that direct 
 questioning induced them. Consecutive, orderly narra- 
 tive was not one of Asenath's strong points.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 SUSAN had no doubt whatever that Asenath and 
 Rawlings were engaged, or, if not actually en- 
 gaged, were upon the point of being so. She was 
 quite surprised, now that she knew her own ambition to 
 be hopeless, to find that she was not really unhappy. 
 In fact, she was en joying the relief that invariably attends 
 the resolution of doubt into certainty. She was not in 
 love, had never been in love, with Rawlings. He had 
 represented "high society" to her. Naturally he had 
 attracted her; he was of the opposite sex and much 
 better than the average. In her eyes, he was rich, edu- 
 cated and distinguished, and she would have been happy 
 to have won some of his attention. She had never seri- 
 ously contemplated the possibility of marriage. That 
 was entirely too remote. 
 
 Now that it was evident that he was to marry Asen- 
 ath, Susan saw that her friendship with the latter must 
 be maintained at all costs. She saw that, as a friend of 
 Asenath, she would have just the opportunity she 
 desired to make acquaintances of the right sort of 
 people. Susan was undoubtedly a climber, but who is not 
 to some extent? 
 
 Saturday was a half holiday for both of the girls. 
 Asenath 's engagement ring had created some comment 
 on the part of the girls who worked on either side of her. 
 
 132
 
 THE CHOICE 133 
 
 Rumor travels quickly, and it was only a few minutes 
 after it was first noticed that news of the ring reached 
 Susan. She was somewhat surprised that the affair had 
 moved so quickly and her curiosity as to the details was 
 at a high pitch. 
 
 The moment she was free, she ran to the dressing 
 room, where Asenath was awaiting her. 
 
 "Oh! Queenie!" she cried, "I'm so glad." 
 
 And she really was. She kissed Asenath with fervor. 
 
 "Tell me all about it," she said. 
 
 "Ain't it a beautiful ring?" asked Asenath, holding 
 out her hand. 
 
 "It sure is some rock," said Susan enthusiastically. 
 "Go on, dearie, tell me all about it. I'm just crazy to 
 hear what's been doing." 
 
 "Oh! There's lots to tell," said Asenath. "It'll take 
 me all afternoon. But first, I've got to 'phone Jim. I 
 promised. What time is it?" 
 
 "It's five after one." 
 
 "Gee! I'm late already. I promised sure to call him 
 at one sharp. He'll be mad." 
 
 "Well, go on. I'll wait here." 
 
 "No, you come with me." 
 
 Asenath quickly had Rawlings on the telephone. At 
 the sound of her voice he brightened up and became 
 very cheerful. He had spent a very miserable morning. 
 But of that hereafter. He arranged to call for her at 
 three o'clock to take her out walking. He kept her at
 
 134 
 
 the telephone for fully five minutes, during all of which 
 time Susan was an interested listener. It was quite 
 possible for her to imagine Rawlings' part in the con- 
 versation. 
 
 Asenath asked her to come home with her and Susan 
 readily consented. As they walked up the street, she 
 began her account. 
 
 "I was just crazy to tell you all about it yesterday," 
 she began, "but Jim thought I'd better not tell anybody 
 until after he'd been up to the house to talk to mamma 
 and papa, because, the night before, they were both in 
 bed sound asleep, and it all happened so sudden that I 
 guess we just didn't know what to do." 
 
 "Aren't you just crazy about him?" Susan inquired. 
 
 "Yes, he's just grand to me," answered Asenath. 
 
 "How did he propose?" asked Susan. 
 
 Asenath thought for a moment. Then she said: 
 
 "He didn't propose at all. He just kissed me and " 
 She stopped. She was in doubt as to the advisability of 
 telling Susan that she had attached no particular impor- 
 tance to the kiss. As she reached the decision not to tell 
 her, Susan's impatience to hear more caused her to say: 
 
 "And what?" 
 
 "And then he asked me if I was glad we were engaged 
 and I told him 'yes, I was,' and then we talked about lots 
 of things; I don't remember what all." 
 
 "That's a funny way to propose. How did he come to 
 kiss you? Where were you?"
 
 THE CHOICE 135 
 
 " In our parlor. He came in to see the picture I told 
 you all about that yesterday." 
 
 "I know, but what came in between?" 
 
 "He said 'did I like him/ and I said 'yes'." 
 
 "And what then?" 
 
 "Then he kissed me." 
 
 "Right off? Where were you?" 
 
 "I told you 'in the parlor'." 
 
 " I know you were in the parlor, but were you sitting 
 down and was he sitting down or what?" 
 
 "We were both standing up." 
 
 "How did you come to be so close together?" 
 
 " I don't remember. We were talking and he took my 
 two hands and then he kissed me." 
 
 Susan was not to be denied, however, and went on 
 with her questions until she had built up the situation, 
 mostly, it is true, out of her own imagination. Then fol- 
 lowed other questions concerning the interview between 
 Rawlings and the senior McBrides, and by the time they 
 were answered they had reached home and their talk 
 was interrupted until after lunch. It was then resumed 
 in Asenath's room. Susan remained with her friend until 
 a few minutes before three and then departed. 
 
 It had been Rawlings' intention to announce his 
 engagement to his sister when he arrived home on Friday 
 night, should she still be visible. Ordinarily, this might 
 have been expected, but this evening it happened that 
 she had gone to bed early.
 
 136 THE CHOICE 
 
 It was not a disappointment to Rawlings to be com- 
 pelled to postpone his announcement. On the contrary 
 he was delighted. He had spent a very happy evening 
 and still felt the thrill which Asenath's presence inva- 
 riably brought to him. He did not want to break the 
 spell. 
 
 In the morning, however, he allowed his brother-in- 
 law to leave for his office alone, using some pretext or 
 other, and, as soon as he found himself alone with his 
 sister, they were still at the breakfast table, he said to her: 
 
 "Mary, I have some news for you." 
 
 "Yes," she answered; "I hope it's good news." 
 
 "The best possible," said Rawlings. "I'm engaged to 
 be married." 
 
 "Engaged!" she cried, putting down the spoon she 
 had just taken up. "You?" 
 
 "Yes, engaged. Why not?" 
 
 " But you've never given the least hint. I should never 
 have guessed it. Who's the girl?" 
 
 "MissMcBride." 
 
 "McBride? I don't know any McBrldes. Who are 
 they?" 
 
 "Don't you remember the McBride who attended 
 our church our old church, you know?" 
 
 " But you can't mean them. Why, they're very ordi- 
 nary people, aren't they?" 
 
 "I guess you might call them ordinary, but they're 
 very fine people for all that," he answered stoutly.
 
 THE CHOICE 137 
 
 "I don't remember their daughter. Or is there more 
 than one?" 
 
 "She's an only child." 
 
 "When I said they were ordinary people," she re- 
 sumed, after her interruption of herself, " I didn't mean 
 anything well, anything derogatory to their characters 
 or anything like that. But if I have any recollection of 
 Mr. McBride at all, it is that he was an honest, well- 
 meaning, religious man, perhaps even a little bigoted, 
 but for all that, a good man, one worthy of respect. But 
 not a person to associate with. He's uneducated, igno- 
 rant and, as far as manners go, I suppose well, I won't 
 hurt your feelings. Is it actually an engagement?" she 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 "Yes, it is," he answered firmly. "There's no doubt 
 that most of what you say about Mr. McBride is quite 
 true. I know it as well as you do, but that doesn't alter 
 the fact that I'm dead in love with Asenath, and I 
 wouldn't care if her father was the devil himself . I want 
 her, and I've got her and I'm glad of it." 
 
 "Well, James, if you feel that way about it, I'm sure 
 I wish you joy. It's by no means the sort of choice I 
 would have had you make, but it's your life and you 
 ought to be old enough to know your own mind. By the 
 way, how old is what did you say her name was?" 
 
 "Asenath. She's nearly nineteen." 
 
 "Tell me about her. How long have you known her?" 
 
 " I've known her in a way for a couple of years, just
 
 138 THE CHOICE 
 
 through meeting her at church, you know. I don't 
 believe I ever spoke a dozen words to her at one time 
 until a couple of weeks ago. Then, after I had been to 
 McBrides' one evening for dinner, I wanted to make some 
 return, and I invited her to a concert. I expected to be 
 bored, but instead, I enjoyed myself more than I ever 
 had in my whole life. She is so sweet, so simple, so good 
 that it's just well, refreshing. After that, I simply 
 couldn't get her out of my mind, and the other night, 
 without any intention in the world, I proposed to her 
 and she accepted. Last night her parents consented, 
 although they thought she was too young." 
 
 "She is, much too young." 
 
 "We won't be married immediately," he said, getting 
 up out of his chair. 
 
 "I've heard that before. I don't doubt that that's 
 your present intention. However, as I said before, it's 
 not my affair and I surely wish you every happiness. 
 You won't mind your old worldly-wise sister croaking a 
 bit. I am afraid your fall was a bit too sudden. I don't 
 know the girl, of course, and won't make up my mind 
 about her in advance. I'm sure I hope she's everything 
 you want her to be. When can we come to see her?" 
 
 "I'm going to see her this afternoon and I'll let you 
 know. Thanks very much, Mary; I'm sure you'll approve 
 when you know her better." 
 
 "We won't discuss my approval just now. If I can 
 give it, I'll be very happy. You know what my feeling is."
 
 THECHOICE 139 
 
 He kissed her and left for the office. He was very 
 uncomfortable all morning. He felt that his sister 
 rather pitied him; that she looked upon him as a boy 
 who had not had sufficient self-control to determine 
 so momentous a matter on the basis of reason. He tried 
 to justify his action by argument with himself, but failed 
 miserably. All that stood out was Asenath's beauty, 
 her softness, her desirability, and they enthralled him 
 whenever he would let his memory dwell on them. Most 
 of the time, however, he felt wounded in his most 
 vulnerable spot, his pride. He was not able to enjoy 
 his ordinary feeling of complete adequacy to meet any 
 situation. He was no longer actively concerned with 
 regard to the financial aspect. That had sunk into the 
 background. Still, it formed a part of his discomfort, 
 although he was not conscious of it. Once or twice he 
 found himself wishing that he were out of the whole 
 affair, but, immediately upon the formation of the idea, 
 he felt it was disloyal, and despised himself because it 
 had even occurred to him. 
 
 However, when Asenath telephoned him at a little 
 after one, all of these distressing reflections were dis- 
 pelled by the mere sound of her voice, and he went to 
 his lunch joyfully and ate with his ordinary good 
 appetite.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 "W "W THEN Rawlings reached McBrides' house, he 
 % /%/ found Asenath ready to start immediately. He 
 
 T T exchanged a few words with Mrs. McBride, 
 who invited him to take supper with them, which he 
 agreed to do, and then they set off. 
 
 They took the trolley to the city park and then 
 began their walk. The day was beautiful. There was 
 just a touch of frost in the air which added zest to their 
 enjoyment of the walk. The trees still retained much of 
 their foliage, brilliant in its striking mixture of colors. 
 Asenath saw this beauty and felt it deeply, but Rawlings 
 saw only Asenath. Their conversation was devoted 
 mainly to themselves, that is, Rawlings, who did almost 
 all of the talking, told her of his interests, his occupation, 
 his likes and dislikes, and so on indefinitely. Asenath was 
 interested in everything he had to say and showed her 
 interest plainly. Rawlings found it was so easy to talk 
 to her that he did not notice that she furnished almost 
 none of the conversation. It is true that occasionally 
 she would ask a simple question, but that was all. 
 
 At length he came to a description of his home life 
 with his sister and then he remembered that he was 
 to make an engagement for her to call on Asenath. He 
 asked her when it would suit her to have them. 
 
 Asenath was not sure and suggested that they had 
 
 140
 
 THE CHOICE 141 
 
 better talk it over with her parents. She did not tell 
 him that she stood rather in awe of Mrs. Dunne and 
 would have preferred not seeing her at all for the 
 present. Besides, it seemed more fitting that the 
 McBrides call on her, in view of her superior position. 
 But when Rawlings mentioned his sister's call on the 
 McBrides as the next step, Asenath accepted that as 
 final, although she could not understand the reason. 
 
 When this matter had been temporarily disposed of, 
 they walked in silence for a while. Rawlings broke it by 
 asking: 
 
 "Now tell me, my dear, what do you do in the 
 evenings?" 
 
 "Oh! Nothing much. Sometimes I sew, or I help 
 mamma with the house work, or we just sit around 
 and talk." 
 
 "Do you read much?" 
 
 "No, not much." 
 
 "Are you fond of reading?" 
 
 "I never have any time to read." 
 
 "Not at all?" 
 
 "Sometimes I look at some magazines." 
 
 "Which ones?" 
 
 "The Ladies' Home Journal and the Delineator." 
 
 "Don't you ever read any books?" 
 
 "No, we haven't got any except some old books of 
 papa's. I don't think I'd care much for them." 
 
 "Have you ever read any of Dickens?"
 
 142 THE CHOICE 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Thackeray?" 
 
 "No, I haven't read anything. I guess I'm awful 
 dumb." 
 
 "Oh! No, you're not, but you've never had any 
 chance." 
 
 "That's so," said Asenath, much relieved. 
 
 "I'm going to send you some books and you'll find 
 out what a great pleasure there is in reading." 
 
 "Oh! That'll be lovely." 
 
 Rawlings, it may be observed, had no taste for 
 literature beyond the most popular variety of fiction. 
 Indeed, he read very little of that. When he was about 
 sixteen, he had been compelled to read Oliver Twist, 
 David Copperfield, Vanity Fair and Ivanhoe. This had 
 been such a great and burdensome task at the time 
 that, looking at it in retrospect, he rather felt that he 
 had fairly well covered all of the so-called standard 
 English fiction. 
 
 As they approached the exit to the park, he asked 
 her suddenly: 
 
 "Are you sure you love me?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered; "you've been just grand to me." 
 
 Somehow or other the adjective rather jarred on him, 
 but a look at her beautiful face and her earnest expres- 
 sion of sincerity restored his equilibrium. He made a 
 mental note that, a little later, he would get her out 
 of the habit of expressing herself thus. He went on:
 
 THE CHOICE 143 
 
 "But, my dear, that isn't what I mean by love. I 
 love you just because you're you, because when I'm 
 with you, I'm perfectly happy, and when I'm away 
 from you, I'm always wishing to be with you. Is that 
 the way you feel about me?" 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath, "but I couldn't say it like that. 
 I just feel things and when I want to say them, they 
 just won't come out." 
 
 Asenath believed herself in love with Rawlings. In 
 the first place she liked him. She enjoyed his evident 
 admiration; she was delighted with her position as 
 his fiance'e; he entertained her. In short, he was a 
 man who paid her homage and it would be impossible 
 to conceive that this could fail to delight her. She liked 
 to be with him, but she was quite content to be away 
 from him, provided she had something else to do that 
 interested her. For instance, this very afternoon, she 
 had enjoyed her talk with Susan immensely. She was 
 very fond of Susan and she had had an intense pleasure 
 in the flattering interest Susan had shown in her friend's 
 good fortune. When Rawlings had told her how he 
 felt, it seemed to her that her own emotion must be 
 what he described. But, even if this was the case, and 
 it wasn't, his words were the first intimation to her of 
 what she thenceforward believed was her own senti- 
 ment. 
 
 They returned to McBrides' shortly before the time 
 of their evening meal. As soon as they were in the house
 
 144 THE CHOICE 
 
 and Asenath was released from Rawlings' embrace, she 
 said: 
 
 "You don't mind if I run up to change my dress 
 so's I can help mamma with the dishes after supper?" 
 
 Rawlings assured her that he thought it was fine 
 of her to be so thoughtful of her mother. He was 
 still under the intoxication which embracing her had 
 brought upon him, and saw her as almost superhuman. 
 He walked up and down the parlor while she was gone. 
 He was much too happy to be able to sit still. 
 
 Asenath returned sooner than he had expected. He 
 noted that she had not changed her dress, which she 
 explained by the statement that her mother would 
 not hear of her helping her this evening. 
 
 "You are certainly devoted to each other, aren't 
 you?" Rawlings asked. 
 
 Asenath looked at him before replying. "You wouldn't 
 think so sometimes," she said. "She gets awful cranky." 
 
 Rawlings felt that a false note had been struck. But 
 his sensation was momentary only. She smiled at him 
 and went on: 
 
 "You ought to hear the way she goes on when she 
 gets mad. But it don't last long with her. She gets 
 over it in a few minutes. And then she is just as sweet 
 as sugar." 
 
 This seemed to Rawlings as rather lacking in filial 
 respect, but he made no comment. He would not have 
 known how. There was nothing definitely disrespectful
 
 THE CHOICE 145 
 
 in what she had said. He tried to seize upon the reason 
 for his critical attitude but it eluded him. 
 
 A moment later, Mrs. McBride called them to supper. 
 During the meal, Rawlings did most of the talking, 
 addressing himself principally to McBride, who answered 
 him from time to time with gravity and much positive- 
 ness. It was arranged that Mr. and Mrs. Dunne were 
 to come either Monday or Tuesday evening, whichever 
 they found more convenient. 
 
 At the conclusion of the meal, Rawlings and Asenath 
 went into the parlor. They talked about many things, 
 the same things, in fact, that they had discussed before 
 at each of their meetings. For a large part of the time 
 Rawlings held Asenath's hand. He was perfectly bliss- 
 ful. He had no sense of the fact that their talk was an 
 almost exact repetition of their former conversations. 
 Actually, they talked to justify their presence in each 
 other's company and not because they were particu- 
 larly interested in the subjects that they discussed. 
 
 At about eight o'clock, Asenath wanted a change. 
 She did not know exactly what, but she was conscious 
 of a certain amount of restlessness. It would be much 
 too strong a statement to say that she was beginning to 
 be somewhat bored, but, although she did not know it, it 
 was in that general direction. Their talk had been punc- 
 tuated by silences which gradually increased in length. 
 
 Finally, Asenath ended one quite long pause in the 
 conversation by saying:
 
 146 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Let's do something." 
 
 "What do you want to do?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh! Anything." 
 
 Rawlings thought for a few minutes. Then he said : 
 
 "Do you care for moving pictures?" 
 
 "I love them." 
 
 "Have you an evening paper?" 
 
 "Papa's got one. I'll get it." 
 
 Asenath left and returned shortly with the paper and 
 together they decided on the picture they wanted to 
 see. This means that Rawlings selected one that he 
 thought would please them and she consented readily. 
 Any one would have suited her. 
 
 They saw the picture, and then they went to a cafe 
 where they danced and came home in a taxi. It was a 
 highly successful evening. Asenath had enjoyed the 
 picture, which happened to be a particularly stupid 
 thing; she loved to dance, and the taxi was luxury in 
 the extreme. And Rawlings had been in the fever of 
 delight which her presence always caused him.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE Dunnes called on the McBrides on Tuesday 
 evening. The visit was comparatively short and 
 very satisfactory to everyone concerned except 
 Rawlings, who was self-conscious to a degree. He was 
 more uncomfortable than he had ever been in his life. 
 He could not help observing the contrast between the 
 bearing of the two families, but it appeared to him to 
 be much greater than it really was. 
 
 It was a satisfactory visit for the Dunnes because 
 it convinced them that their objections to the match 
 were fully justified. They would both have said that 
 it would have been a great pleasure to have found 
 themselves in error, not as to the rule, of course, but 
 in this particular case. That applied to the parents. 
 As for Asenath, they were both quite charmed. She was 
 beautiful as always, and bore herself with great modesty, 
 so it appeared to them. They set down her silence, 
 which she maintained except when a question was put 
 to her directly, to girlish shyness. 
 
 On the way home they agreed that it was bad enough 
 for James to marry into a family like that, but, at any 
 rate, the girl was young, seemed to be very modest and 
 unquestionably could be taught. And she undoubtedly 
 was a beauty. Nobody could find fault with James' 
 taste in this respect. It was a pity, however, that he 
 
 147
 
 148 THE CHOICE 
 
 hadn't picked out somebody who could have been more 
 of a help to him. 
 
 Each of the three McBrides had a different opinion 
 of their visitors. The head of the family was rather 
 contemptuous, that is, as contemptuous as a man of 
 his kind could be of a solid citizen like Raymond Dunne. 
 McBride made no comment to the rest of the family, 
 but inwardly he felt that he had been patronized, and 
 he resented it. 
 
 Mrs. McBride was delighted. To her they stood for 
 the social glory in which her daughter was to shine. 
 She had mistaken what was simply good manners on 
 the part of Mary Dunne for actual interest in them 
 and their affairs. Mary's tact had confined the con- 
 versation largely to matters which concerned the 
 McBrides. She had talked about the Second Presby- 
 terian Church and its congregation in the days when 
 she was a member of it. 
 
 Asenath was much relieved after the first few minutes 
 of the visit. She found that she need not stand in awe 
 of her prospective sister-in-law. Mary had come to 
 her at once when she had come into the room and had 
 kissed her in the most affectionate manner. She had 
 won Asenath completely by her tactful simplicity. 
 
 After they had gone, and Rawlings and Asenath 
 were alone, he asked her: 
 
 "How did you like Mary?" 
 
 "I think she's lovely."
 
 THE CHOICE 149 
 
 "I'm glad you like her. I'm sure she likes you, too. 
 I could tell from the way she acted towards you. Is 
 she anything like what you expected?" 
 
 "I don't know. I was kind of scared. I thought she'd 
 be kind of I don't know just what. But " 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 "She's just sweet." 
 
 It had been arranged that Asenath was to come to 
 Dunnes for dinner on the following Thursday. Asenath 
 looked forward to the occasion with the keenest 
 pleasure. To her it was her formal entrance into the 
 world of wealth and fashion. Strange to say, she was 
 not at all impressed by what almost any other girl 
 would likely have considered her good fortune. This 
 aspect did not come into her mental vision. She was 
 given neither to introspection nor to calculation. It 
 was ever so much easier just to let things happen. 
 If she had had any philosophy, she might have justified 
 her course on the basis of fatalism or perhaps merely 
 blind chance. But she had no philosophy. 
 
 On Tuesday evening on her return home, she found 
 a fine edition of Thackeray's works awaiting her. They 
 were beautiful books and Asenath was delighted to 
 be the owner of so distinguished a gift. Rawlings had 
 enclosed a note hi which he recommended that she 
 begin by reading "Vanity Fair." So, after she was 
 dressed, and all ready for the expected visitors, she 
 took "Vanity Fair" from the set and began to read it.
 
 150 THE CHOICE 
 
 She was much surprised to find it completely unin- 
 teresting. She had expected, from Rawlings' remarks 
 of the previous Saturday, to find it as absorbing as 
 a "movie." She was mystified at first by the allusions 
 and wondered why she could not understand them. 
 The book was certainly written in English, there were 
 comparatively few words she did not comprehend; it 
 told about school-girls at a boarding school, that 
 much was clear, but what was the author trying to 
 say? She could not determine, but she read on, hoping 
 that it would become clear later on. Presently she 
 found that she was thinking of something quite removed 
 from the matter in the page before her, although she 
 was still mechanically reading the words. So she began 
 again at the very beginning and had read three pages 
 before her guests arrived. 
 
 During the evening, after the Dunnes had gone, she 
 thanked Rawlings for the books. He asked her whether 
 she had looked into them and she answered that she 
 had just glanced at the first few pages of "Vanity Fair." 
 
 "Did you read up to where Becky Sharp threw the 
 dictionary out of the carriage window?" he asked. 
 This was one of the few incidents of the book which 
 had remained in his memory. 
 
 "No," said Asenath, "I looked at only two or three 
 pages." Throwing the dictionary out of a carriage 
 window was something she could understand. That 
 appealed to her as humorous and she concluded that
 
 THE CHOICE 151 
 
 she would enjoy the book after she got over the first 
 few pages. 
 
 On Thursday evening, Rawlings called for her at 
 seven o'clock, this time in Raymond Dunne's fine 
 limousine. As Asenath sank into the luxurious uphol- 
 stery, she was conscious of the contrast between this 
 and the taxis to which she had recently become accus- 
 tomed. How comfortable it was, she thought, not only 
 to be whisked from place to place without the necessity 
 of going into the dirty streets, or the even dirtier trolley 
 cars, but in such a conveyance as this. Asenath felt a 
 great sense of physical well-being, she was at complete 
 peace with herself and the world and she accepted the 
 pressure of Rawlings' hand on hers without thought of 
 its implication, and also without any return pressure. 
 
 The dinner seemed to Asenath quite formal, although 
 it differed in no respect from the ordinary service of the 
 Dunnes' meals. She made no errors. She was in no hurry, 
 was not at all nervous and did exactly what she saw her 
 hostess do. She even drank a little white wine, although 
 she found it disagreeable. The meal was a simple one 
 with regard to the quantity and variety of the food. 
 Asenath enjoyed herself thoroughly. She was seated 
 between Rawlings and Dunne, and the latter kept 
 up a running fire of banter which was quite within her 
 understanding. She showed her appreciation mostly 
 in smiles, but occasionally she laughed, never loudly, 
 however.
 
 152 THE CHOICE 
 
 After dinner, Mary took Asenath to her own room. 
 Asenath was immensely impressed by the quiet elegance 
 of all that she had seen in the Dunne household, but the 
 intimate quality of charm in the decoration of this room 
 appealed to her with particular force. To live in such 
 surroundings was worth while. She wondered if such 
 decoration was very costly; whether it would be within 
 her reach when she was married. 
 
 Mary motioned to a comfortable chair in which Asen- 
 ath seated herself and observed her prospective sister- 
 in-law go to a drawer in her dressing table and take 
 therefrom a little package. Mary handed the package 
 to Asenath, saying: 
 
 ''It's only a little thing I got for you today." 
 
 "For me? Oh! Thank you. Shall I open it now?" 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 It -proved to be a fine, but beautifully simple la val- 
 liere. Asenath was delighted. She showed her pleasure 
 so plainly that comment was unnecessary. 
 
 "Jt's grand," she said. " Gorgeous." 
 
 "Put it on," Mary directed, and Asenath, getting up 
 from her chair, went over to the mirror and placed it on 
 her neck. She looked at her reflection for quite a long 
 time, Mary watching her with pleasure. 
 ' "You're so good to me," said Asenath at length. 
 
 "It adds to your appearance, doesn't it?" 
 
 "It's lovely." 
 
 "Come over here, my dear, let's get acquainted.
 
 THE CHOICE 153 
 
 We're going to see a great deal of each other and there's 
 nothing like a good start." 
 
 Asenath sat down beside her. She was quite at a loss 
 for the proper answer, so she made none. Instead, she 
 took Mary's hand and fondled it. 
 
 "You're very happy, aren't you?" asked Mary. 
 
 "Oh! yes. I'm awfully happy." 
 
 "And James is the finest man in the whole world, 
 isn't he?" asked Mary. 
 
 This was something that had not occurred to Asen- 
 ath. However, there was nothing to do but assent. 
 
 "He's just wonderful," said Asenath. She was going 
 to say something about his generosity, but the right 
 words wouldn't come. 
 
 "He's a very fine fellow," said Mary. "Even though 
 I'm his sister and supposed to be prejudiced in his favor, 
 I can say that with a clear conscience. Still, he's like 
 other people, he has his ups and downs. You know the 
 sun doesn't shine every day. And marriage isn't alto- 
 gether a party. Sometimes it's a pretty serious business. 
 I suppose you realize that." 
 
 Asenath did not know what to say. This was all new 
 to her. Her only conception of her own marriage was 
 with regard to clothes, a pretty house, the luxury of 
 servants, amusement. She wished with all her soul that 
 she could say something in answer to Mary, but it 
 would not come. So Mary went on: 
 
 "Then there's another thing to consider babies.
 
 154 THECHOICE 
 
 They're the great blessing, but they're a burden as well. 
 And the woman's part is the serious one. It's scarcely 
 fair, I suppose, to talk of these things to you yet, but 
 I want both of you to be happy, very happy, and your 
 best chance is to know a little of what's before you. 
 Don't you think so?" 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath. But she said it with her lips only 
 and Mary saw that the real meaning had not reached 
 her. She continued : 
 
 "I'm glad you agree with me, because I know. I've 
 been 'through the mill,' as they say. You've got to love 
 a man much better than you love yourself if you want 
 to get anything out of marriage. You've got to be able 
 to get a good deal of your joy out of sacrifice. You think 
 James is 'wonderful,' you say. That's now, when he's in 
 a sort of craze concerning you; when you seem almost 
 holy to him. Do you think, when you've lived together 
 for a few years, and the novelty's worn off, that you'll 
 think he's wonderful when he flies in a temper just 
 because the coffee's cold? It's got to be a pretty thor- 
 oughgoing love that will pull you through, and you 
 want to be sure that he's the man you must have to 
 make you happy, no matter what comes." 
 
 She paused and looked at Asenath intently awaiting 
 some answer. But there was nothing in Asenath 's mind 
 to fit the occasion. She could not speak, the words would 
 not come. She still had Mary's hand in her own. Sud- 
 denly she put it to her mouth and kissed it.
 
 THE CHOICE 155 
 
 "Why do you do that?" asked Mary. 
 
 "Oh! I just love you," answered Asenath, "you're so 
 good to me and I'm so awful dumb that I just have to 
 sit here and listen to you talk so lovely to me and I can't 
 say one word." 
 
 Asenath was on the verge of tears. Mary saw it and, 
 with keen intuition, recognized exactly the sort of 
 person with whom she was dealing. Asenath's helpless- 
 ness appealed to her as nothing else could. 
 
 "Don't say that, my dear. You must remember that 
 you're a very young girl, and it's not expected that you 
 have thought about all these things. I was wrong to 
 talk about them to you. At any rate, we all have to 
 learn from our own experience. Warnings aren't worth 
 much. Now let's talk about other things." 
 
 Mary's tone was kindness itself, and it, rather than 
 her words, comforted Asenath completely. Her face 
 regained its customary composure. She now felt entirely 
 at ease with Mary; she had the sense of being with a 
 staunch friend, one upon whom she might always count 
 with confidence. 
 
 "What'll we talk about?" she asked brightly. 
 
 "Tell me where you got that pretty dress." 
 
 Asenath was altogether at home on this topic, and 
 became almost voluble. When she left Dunnes' with 
 Rawlings, she was happy in the belief that she had a 
 good friend in Mary.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 WHEN Rawlings returned after escorting Asen- 
 ath to her home, he was surprised to find his 
 sister up and evidently awaiting him. She 
 greeted him affectionately. 
 
 "Do you want to go to bed immediately?" she queried. 
 
 "Why do you ask?" he returned. 
 
 "If you don't mind," she answered, "I'd like to have 
 a little talk with you." There was no mistaking her 
 manner. It was clearly reassuring. Had it been other- 
 wise, he would undoubtedly have found some excuse 
 to evade what would have been a somewhat disagreeable 
 discussion. He had just left Asenath and was still 
 under the spell of her charm. He sat down. 
 
 "I'm not sleepy," he said, "go on." 
 
 "James," she began, "I got to know Asenath very 
 well this evening, and I'm perfectly sure that you have 
 chosen well. I believe she will make you a good wife. 
 After all, that's the important thing, isn't it?" 
 
 Somehow or other, Rawlings could not have told why, 
 he found her words unsatisfying. Of course, nothing 
 but assent was possible. 
 
 "Don't think," she went on, "that I believe she's 
 perfect, or that your life together will be one continuous 
 dream of happiness. She's very beautiful, she reminds 
 me of someone, I can't think who it may be; she's 
 
 156
 
 THE CHOICE 157 
 
 modest, her manner is quiet and dignified, and if, as 
 is probable, she has never had any experience of the 
 niceties of life, at least she doesn't give herself away. 
 She seems to have good taste, just naturally. Did you 
 notice her behavior at the table this evening? Why, 
 you'd think she was used to dining out every evening." 
 
 Rawlings was vaguely dissatisfied. He enjoyed Mary's 
 praise of Asenath, but he feared her analysis. He did 
 not want to hear of any imperfections. He knew that 
 they must be present, but he felt that he could not 
 discuss them. To admit them would hurt his pride, 
 he would feel it as a reflection on his judgment, his own 
 worth. He did not recognize it, but this was the fact. 
 
 "She shows her good taste in her dress," continued 
 Mary. "Do you know that ail of her clothes are made 
 at home by her mother and herself? She gets the ideas 
 from the fashion papers, but it's wonderful how sure 
 her taste is. It's just natural." 
 
 "She certainly dresses well," said Rawlings. "She 
 always looks fine, never overdressed." 
 
 "Yes, I can imagine that she looks just as well in 
 the clothes she wears at her work." 
 
 "I've never seen her then, but she always looks 
 just as well as she did this evening." 
 
 "For so young a girl, it's rather remarkable. She's 
 not quite nineteen, and it isn't fair to expect too much 
 of her. She's had no social or educational advantages 
 whatever. I don't know what her friends are like."
 
 158 THE CHOICE 
 
 "They're not much. You know the kind." 
 
 "Of course I do. And her parents are well, the less 
 said the better." 
 
 "I know what they are, too. And after we're married, 
 I don't propose to see any more of them than I can 
 help." 
 
 "I don't blame you. But, after all, that's a minor 
 matter. What I want to talk about is Asenath herself. 
 James, I want you to understand what I'm going to 
 say in the spirit in which I say it, that is, in the spirit 
 of the utmost kindness. Asenath is a beautiful girl, 
 she's good, she has fine taste and everything like that, 
 but she's not a bit clever. I don't mean the cheap 
 smartness which passes with most people as cleverness. 
 I mean Oh! it's awfully hard to say just what I 
 mean, but I suppose that I can put it that her under- 
 standing is limited to rather simple ideas." 
 
 Rawlings made a gesture of protest. 
 
 "Wait, James," she went on. "I know it's not fair 
 to judge on such short acquaintance, but I'm convinced 
 that my judgment I guess it isn't really judgment, 
 but intuition. Well, my intuition, then, tells me this. 
 But I'm almost persuaded that this is an advantage 
 rather than the opposite. She's very young, you hava 
 the opportunity to make almost anything of her 
 within her ability. One thing is sure, if you follow the 
 right course, you'll be very happy. But don't crowd 
 her, study Jjer and study yourself. You have every
 
 THE CHOICE 159 
 
 incentive, you love her and you can make her love you 
 with complete devotion." 
 
 "She loves me now," said Rawlings. What his sister 
 had said to him concerning Asenath had completely 
 upset him. As she spoke, he felt the elemental truth of 
 her words, but he would not admit it. He was ill at 
 ease, discontented with the whole affair. 
 
 "In a way, yes," said Mary. "But she might very 
 well not understand what love means. Just think what 
 you represent in the way of social possibility to a girl 
 in her circumstances. Don't you see that it is quite 
 probable that your attentions have flattered her to 
 the point where she mistakes her admiration for you 
 and her gratitude for love? I don't doubt that she will 
 love you, and devotedly too, when she has gone a little 
 further, but now I'm not at all sure." 
 
 "I'm sure," answered Rawlings, stoutly, "and I 
 don't think you're right when you say she's stupid. 
 She's young and she's inexperienced, that's all. And 
 besides, she feels strange with you. When we're alone 
 together she talks why, you ought to hear her ideas." 
 
 Rawlings got no further. He was almost angry and 
 feared that he might become thoroughly so were the 
 discussion protracted. 
 
 "All right," said Mary, "I hope I'm wrong in every- 
 thing that makes her less than you want her to be. But 
 don't be annoyed with me. I'm so much interested that I 
 want to help you all I can. You know that, don't you?"
 
 160 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Certainly," he answered. "And thank you very 
 much for your gift to Asenath. She was perfectly 
 delighted with it. You'd be all puffed up if I told you 
 all she said about you. Good night." 
 
 He kissed her and went off to bed, but, once there, 
 he wooed sleep in vain. 
 
 As he tossed on his bed until almost dawn, he con- 
 sidered and reconsidered his position, and then con- 
 sidered it again. He alternated between his desire for 
 Asenath, which controlled him whenever, for a moment, 
 he thought of her, and his wish to be out of the whole 
 affair. For it had come to that. He was afraid. His 
 sister's well meant words had had an effect exactly 
 opposed to her intention. He could not specify just 
 what he feared, he knew only that he was unhappy; 
 that his position as Asenath's fiance made him feel 
 apologetic. He could answer every objection to the 
 match that had been offered or that had occurred to 
 him, and could answer it satisfactorily, but still the 
 feeling of the necessity for explanation, for outward 
 justification, was upon him. 
 
 All objections or criticisms but one could be disposed 
 of. And that was Mary's opinion that Asenath was not 
 clever. He told himself that she might not be vivacious 
 or voluble, but he refused to admit that her quiet 
 demeanor was any evidence of a lack of intellectual 
 quality. She was untrained, uneducated, if the word 
 was necessary, but that was all.
 
 THE CHOICE 161 
 
 How beautiful she was! What wonderful charm in 
 her expressive smile! What grace in her least movement! 
 He conjured her before him as he lay with closed eyes, 
 and again he was rapturously in love with her, 
 oblivious to every feeling but the desire for possession 
 of her. 
 
 And from this ecstacy he would sink into despair. 
 He wanted to be out of it; he wanted to be free. He 
 would go to her and tell her it was a mistake; that she 
 was too young to be bound to him; that he was taking 
 an unfair advantage of her; that His mind refused 
 to work. He gave it up and yielded himself to sheer 
 misery. 
 
 While he tossed and worried, Asenath was enjoying 
 the sleep of the just. She found her mother waiting for 
 her when Rawlings had gone, curious to learn of the 
 evening's happenings. Asenath was in a most com- 
 municative mood. She was not only willing, but anxious, 
 to talk about her experience. 
 
 Mrs. McBride's interest was mainly in the material 
 aspect of the affair. She wanted to know what food she 
 had been offered, what kind of a house the Dunnes had, 
 about their servants and so on. Asenath satisfied her 
 curiosity as well as she could in regard to these points 
 and then, when the limits of Mrs. McBride's imagina- 
 tion were reached, began to talk about Mary Dunne. 
 
 "Mamma, I think Mary's the most wonderful, the 
 sweetest, the best Oh! she's just grand. After
 
 162 THE CHOICE 
 
 supper, I mean dinner, she asked me to come up into 
 her room. I told you how sweet it was. Did I tell you 
 about her little bag of powder puffs? She don't use 'em 
 herself. They're just for her visitors, and when they've 
 been used once, why, she throws 'em away. What do 
 you think of that? Well, we went into her room and she 
 talked lovely to me. I liked her the first minute when 
 she was here on Tuesday, but up there, in her room, I 
 was just crazy about her. She told me such sensible 
 things, I couldn't tell you all she said, and Oh! she 
 thinks you sew just grand. I told her how you make all 
 my dresses. She thinks this one's lovely. Oh, I wish I 
 was like her. She is good and kind and smart. I've never 
 met anybody like her. It's no wonder Jim's crazy about 
 her. He's so glad I like her, he was awful anxious for us 
 to be good friends. And we are." 
 
 This induced a new line of questioning on the part 
 of Mrs. McBride, which Asenath answered as well as 
 she could, although not always to the complete satisfac- 
 tion of her parent, whose curiosity was well nigh 
 insatiable. While they were still talking, they heard the 
 clock strike one. Then they both went to bed, each 
 happy in her own way.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 EVERY day, during her lunch hour, Asenath, fol- 
 lowing Rawlings' instructions, called him on the 
 telephone. There was no special purpose in this 
 further than the procuring of an additional contact. In 
 these brief talks, neither of them had anything to com- 
 municate that was of any consequence whatever. Asen- 
 ath enjoyed it, it gave her something to do which rather 
 heightened the sense of her own importance, and, in 
 addition, she liked to talk to him about the very few 
 things that came in her mind about which she was able 
 to talk. But, if he had told her that, for some reason or 
 other, these noonday talks were to be discontinued, it 
 would have made very little, if any, difference to her. 
 
 Quite different was his feeling with regard to them. 
 After the second day, he was thoroughly self-conscious 
 when the telephone operator called him. He fancied that 
 she did it with a mock-accusing air and he was thoroughly 
 uncomfortable. But he looked forward to these daily 
 talks as a relief to his intense desire to see Asenath. 
 
 On the morning following her visit to the Dunnes, 
 Asenath was told by Rawlings, during their chat over 
 the telephone, that he would not be able to come to see 
 her in the evening because of an unusual press of work in 
 the office, which would hold him until quite a late hour. 
 This was partly true, but the principal reason for his 
 
 163
 
 164 THE CHOICE 
 
 action was that he was still under the influence of his 
 unrest of the night before. He was at the point where he 
 was actually considering how he might break his engage- 
 ment. This idea was intermittent only, for, most of the 
 time, he was controlled by his desire for her. Vaguely, 
 he recognized that, in her presence, it would be impossi- 
 ble for him to consider the matter coolly, and he felt 
 that he must settle it promptly and once for all. 
 
 Asenath was quite satisfied with Rawlings' announce- 
 ment. She would have been glad to see him, but, since 
 she had no doubt whatever of his complete devotion to 
 her, she was entirely content to spend an evening with- 
 out him. To be more strictly accurate, she was even 
 somewhat pleased at the prospect. 
 
 When she returned to Susan, with whom, as usual, she 
 was lunching, she remarked : 
 
 "Jim ain't coming tonight. He's got to work at the 
 office.' 1 
 
 "That's too bad," answered Susan. "What are you 
 going to do?" 
 
 "Oh! I guess I'll read a little, and maybe I'll sew." 
 
 "I'm going over to May Wilson's house tonight after 
 supper. How'd you like us to run over to your house?" 
 
 "That'd be fine." 
 
 Asenath, after her supper, took out "Vanity Fair" 
 and made another attempt at it. She determined that 
 she would read up to the dictionary episode and, by 
 dint of much perserverance, finally achieved the first
 
 THE CHOICE 165 
 
 chapter. But she did not enjoy any aspect of the under- 
 taking except her satisfaction in the accomplishment of 
 a difficult task. She had understood very little of the 
 text, for she was utterly without any standards which 
 would have enabled her to appreciate the quality of the 
 satire. 
 
 She laid the book away and completely dismissed it 
 from her thoughts. She began her sewing and was busily 
 engaged at it when a ring at the doorbell announced 
 the arrival of Susan and May. This was shortly before 
 eight o'clock. 
 
 At about eight-thirty there was another ring at the 
 doorbell, which interrupted their talk about the Dunnes. 
 Both Susan and May were extremely curious and had 
 plied Asenath with an interminable series of questions, 
 which she had answered with great pleasure and not a 
 little pride. The ring of the bell, however, cut this short. 
 Asenath went to the door and was much surprised and, 
 to tell the truth, not altogether pleased, to see Rawlings. 
 This was but momentary, however, for she quickly 
 felt some gratification in the idea of having her fiance"s 
 inability to remain away from her actually demon- 
 strated to her friends. 
 
 Rawlings had been unable to concentrate on his work, 
 and, after struggling with it for two hours, had recog- 
 nized the futility of hoping to accomplish anything in 
 his present mental condition. He closed his desk shortly 
 after seven o'clock and went to a restaurant for dinner.
 
 166 THE CHOICE 
 
 But he had no appetite and left most of the food untasted. 
 Then he walked the streets, turning over and over in 
 his mind the one subject which obsessed him. 
 
 Suddenly he was aware that he was in the neighbor- 
 hood of McBrides' house, and, dimly recognizing in the 
 unconscious direction of his steps the presence of some 
 outward guidance in the determination of his problem, 
 he made up his mind that he must free himself at once. 
 While still under the influence of this resolution, he 
 hastened his stride, and, a few minutes later, rang 
 McBrides' doorbell. He had not been able to decide just 
 what he would say, but he was determined that, in some 
 way or other, he would make it plain to Asenath that 
 their engagement had been a mistake. He had no doubt 
 that she would release him. But even in the brief interval 
 between ringing the bell and the opening of the door, he 
 was again thrown into uncertainty by the thought of 
 the meanness of his contemplated action and what would 
 be thought of it by others. Of its effect on Asenath her- 
 self he thought but little. 
 
 Asenath's first surprise over, she greeted him in her 
 customary manner. She held up her face to him to kiss. 
 He did so, and with the contact of her lips he knew only 
 that he wanted her; that it would be impossible for him 
 to carry out his purpose. He felt that he must explain 
 his unexpected coming. 
 
 "I got through sooner than I expected and thought 
 I'd take a chance of your being up," he said.
 
 THE CHOICE 167 
 
 "That was a cinch," she answered. " I never go to bed 
 until ten, anyway. Come in. Susan and May are here." 
 
 This was a decidedly unpleasant announcement to 
 Rawlings. He did not want to see them and he resented 
 Asenath's association with them. He felt it to be a 
 reflection on him. 
 
 "Oh! are they?" he said hastily. "Well, then, I won't 
 stop." 
 
 "Jim, you don't mean it?" she answered. "What 
 would they think of such a thing?" 
 
 "You don't need to tell them I was here, do you?" 
 
 "Jim, please come in. They won't stay long," she 
 pleaded. 
 
 "All right, then," he said, grudgingly, "but I don't 
 like them and I don't want to see them. I can't imagine 
 what you see in them, either." 
 
 "Oh! Jim!" was all that Asenath could say. 
 
 He closed the door behind him, which she understood 
 as a final agreement to come in. She led the way to the 
 dining room, where the girls were. Rawlings greeted 
 them with frozen politeness. He showed his dissatisfac- 
 tion so plainly that Asenath perceived it and became 
 rather angry. May and Susan felt it instantly and deter- 
 mined to leave as soon as their standard of politeness 
 would permit. This meant that a little conversation was 
 absolutely necessary. It was of the most perfunctory 
 nature, however, and, in not over five minutes, the girls 
 had gone.
 
 168 THE CHOICE 
 
 When Asenath returned to Rawlings after seeing her 
 friends to the door, he was made aware of something 
 new in her, something he had not yet experienced. He 
 was thoroughly angry himself. He had made up his 
 mind that if the engagement was to go on, Asenath must 
 promise to give up her association with these girls. He 
 was troubled by the alteration in her manner, he could 
 not explain it, and this but added to his resentment. 
 
 "What on earth do you see in those girls?" he asked. 
 
 Asenath was silent; she looked at him with an injured 
 air. 
 
 "Why don't you answer me?" he asked, growing 
 angrier constantly. 
 
 But Asenath still held her tongue. She looked at him 
 in mute protest. 
 
 " I don't know what to make of you," he went on, after 
 a pause; " I rush away from my work just for the pleasure 
 of being with you for a little while, and when I ask you 
 a civil question you won't answer." His words came 
 without thought. He scarcely recognized their utter 
 mendacity. 
 
 Still she was silent, and, in his desire to make her talk, 
 to compel some admission of the correctness of his atti- 
 tude, he went on, no longer remembering the purpose 
 of his coming in his desire to master her. 
 
 " I can't understand you. You tell me you love me, 
 you say I am generous with you, you let me believe that 
 your only desire is to please me, and yet, when I take
 
 THECHOICE 169 
 
 exception to your associating with a couple of ordinary 
 girls, girls that you positively couldn't associate with 
 as my wife, you sit there and mope and haven't even 
 the politeness to answer a civil question. I guess I had 
 better go, and let you have the company of your 
 friends." The intonation of this last word carried all of 
 the contempt imaginable. 
 
 But Asenath was still silent. She stared before her hi 
 vacancy. She was thoroughly angry. It would have been 
 a great relief to her to say something that would hurt 
 him, that would make him feel the sense of injury which 
 she felt, but nothing would come to her lips. 
 
 He waited a moment and then got up from his chair 
 and made a few steps towards the door. She did not 
 move but continued to stare into vacancy. He turned to 
 look at her, and the piteous expression on her face over- 
 came him. With a sudden rush, he realized that he must 
 have her, he could not break with her, that if he left 
 her now, he would be condemned to endless misery. 
 
 "Asenath," he said, "won't you talk to me?" She 
 looked up at him, he saw tears in her eyes, and this was 
 the final touch. He came over to her and took her hand, 
 which she yielded to him passively. But she said nothing. 
 
 "Asenath," he said again, "won't you please talk to 
 me?" 
 
 "Oh! Why are you so mean to me?" she said. And 
 now the tears flowed freely, and she gave herself up to 
 his embrace, sobbing like the child she was.
 
 170 THE CHOICE 
 
 Presently, she was calmer, and they talked the matter 
 out freely. He accused himself of brutality, of unworthi- 
 ness, of everything which he could think of in the rapture 
 of his new possession of her. When he left, two hours 
 later, he was again in the clouds. He loved her and 
 nothing must ever come between them again.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 ON the following Monday morning, as Asenath 
 was approaching the door of the building which 
 contained both the exchange in which she was 
 employed and the main office of the Telephone Com- 
 pany, she saw a familiar figure coming towards her. 
 Instantly she recognized Lamed. 
 
 For a moment she hoped he would pass without 
 seeing her, but for a moment only. She would have 
 been utterly unable to give any reason for the thrill 
 of happiness which she experienced at the sight of him, 
 but she felt it in its full intensity. 
 
 He saw her almost immediately and his smile of 
 recognition added much to her pleasure. They came 
 together at the door. She spoke first. 
 
 "Good morning," he answered, hesitated for a 
 moment, and then said, "Madame or, perhaps I had 
 better say Mademoiselle, Vigee." 
 
 "Why don't you say all of it?" she asked. 
 
 "Well, you see, Le Brun was not her maiden name, 
 and it wouldn't do to call you Madame." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because Madame is the same as Mrs. It's used only 
 for married women, and you're not married yet, I 
 presume." This with a mischievous smile. 
 
 This brought Asenath to a sudden recollection of 
 
 171
 
 172 THE CHOICE 
 
 her engagement to Rawlings, which she had momen- 
 tarily forgotten in her pleasure at meeting Lamed. 
 
 "Not yet," she answered gravely, "but pretty soon." 
 
 "Really?" he asked with surprise. He was rather 
 struck by the fact that he was distinctly chagrined at 
 the news. 
 
 "Yes, I'm engaged to a man you used to know." 
 
 "Who is the lucky fellow?" 
 
 "James Rawlings." 
 
 "Rawlings, Rawlings. Oh, yes. I remember him. 
 It's been years since I've seen him. Well, I wish you 
 joy." 
 
 "Thank you very much," said Asenath. She was sur- 
 prised to find that she was rather sorry that she was 
 engaged. She did not try to find any reason for it, she 
 merely felt it rather vaguely. 
 
 Lamed was about to allow her to pass him, when 
 she said: 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Larned, I guess you think I'm terrible, and 
 that I've got no manners at all because I never thanked 
 you for that sweet picture you sent me. I tried to write 
 you a letter. I began one, but it just wouldn't come out 
 right, and then it got to be too late. I love the picture, 
 it's in my room. I look at it every day." 
 
 "Oh! That's all right. Miss Do you know I've 
 actually forgotten your name?' 
 
 "McBride, Asenath McBride." 
 
 "To be sure, Miss McBride. And to forget a name
 
 THE CHOICE 173 
 
 like Asenath. Say, Rawlings' name ought to be Joseph 
 instead of James, ought'nt it?" 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath, laughing. Oh! This man was 
 delightful. He had fun in him. She remembered her 
 pleasure in the talk they had had by the brook. 
 
 "Well, I must be on my way," he said. "You know 
 a workingman has to keep good hours." 
 
 "A workingman!" said Asenath. "I thought you were 
 a school teacher." 
 
 "That's past history. I haven't taught school since 
 since last Friday. I'm in business now. I'm working 
 for the Telephone Company, Engineering Department. 
 This is my shop right here," he said, pointing to the 
 building in front of which they stood. 
 
 "It's mine, too," said Asenath. 
 
 "That's so. You told me you were a 'hello girl'." 
 
 "No, I didn't. We don't say 'hello' nowadays." 
 
 "That's right. Well, I'm glad we'll be able to see each 
 other occasionally. Tell Rawlings that I congratulate 
 him." 
 
 They entered the building together. Asenath left 
 him at the fifth floor. Mixed with her great pleasure 
 in their talk there was still a vague feeling of dissatisfac- 
 tion. However, this did not last long and soon she gave 
 herself up to the enjoyment of remembering every 
 detail of his sprightly talk. Surely she had never met 
 anyone so interesting; no one to whom she talked so 
 freely. It seemed as though he inspired her, she never
 
 174 THE CHOICE 
 
 felt mute or incapable in his presence. Rawlings was a 
 fine fellow and she had no doubt that she loved him, 
 but yet, with him, at times, she simply couldn't say 
 the things she felt. She wondered why it was. 
 
 At noon, she told Susan all about her interview with 
 Lamed. But Susan was not much interested. She had 
 another matter which claimed her attention. At the 
 first chance, she asked: 
 
 "Say, Queenie, what was the matter with your man 
 on Friday evening? I've been wanting to ask you ever 
 since, but I haven't had the chance." This was quite 
 true, for Rawlings had met Asenath as she left the ex- 
 change on Saturday at noon and had practically monop- 
 olized her for the rest of that day and also all of Sunday. 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Asenath. 
 
 "He was awful grumpy. He acted as though May 
 and I were dirt. My, but maybe he can't hand out the 
 icy mitt." 
 
 Asenath was troubled. She felt that she really could 
 not tell Susan the truth, and invention was beyond 
 her powers. 
 
 "I don't know," she said. 
 
 "Didn't he apologize, or explain or nothing?" asked 
 Susan. 
 
 "He was grouchy," admitted Asenath after a short 
 pause. "Did May notice anything?" 
 
 "Did she? She was furious. She said she won't ever 
 come to your house again."
 
 THE CHOICE 175 
 
 Asenath did not know what to say to this, so she 
 wisely kept silent. Presently she said: 
 
 "Sue, you're not mad at me, are you?" 
 
 Susan was convinced that Asenath knew more than 
 she would tell. But she had had considerable experience 
 and not much success in making her talk against her 
 will and, for that reason, she decided not to press the 
 question just now. 
 
 "I'm not mad at you," she said. "It wasn't your 
 fault. Only, if Mr. Rawlings don't want to see me, I 
 guess I can keep out of his way. That's all." 
 
 And thus the matter dropped. 
 
 Since the preceding Friday, Rawlings had given 
 himself up to complete happiness in his engagement to 
 Asenath. It is true, of course, that he had spent nearly 
 the whole of his time with her since their little mis- 
 understanding and the subsequent reconciliation, and, 
 when he was with her, he was never in any doubt. Her 
 charm was all-potent. 
 
 He came to see her Monday evening and they went 
 out for a walk. Without having any special objective they 
 presently found themselves in the neighborhood of the 
 Dunnes' house. When they remarked this, Rawlings asked : 
 
 "Would you like to drop in for a moment to see 
 Mary? I don't imagine she's out, although I know that 
 Raymond is." 
 
 "I'd love to," answered Asenath, "only I ain't 
 dressed for a visit."
 
 176 THE CHOICE 
 
 "You look all right to me," said Rawlings, "and, 
 besides, she's your sister now, so I don't suppose you 
 need stand on any ceremony." 
 
 They found Mary at home. She was very glad to see 
 Asenath. She found her looking quite as well in her 
 simple, homemade coat and skirt as in the more elab- 
 orate dress which she had worn when she had dined 
 there. 
 
 They were talking of indifferent matters when a 
 telegram was handed in. It was for Rawlings. He opened 
 and read it, and made an exclamation of surprise. 
 
 "What do you think?" he cried. "Uncle George is 
 dead." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Mary. 
 
 He handed her the telegram. 
 
 It read: "George Rawlings died suddenly today of 
 heart failure. Funeral Thursday." It was dated San 
 Francisco. 
 
 "Isn't it awful," said Mary. "Just think, he was 
 only a little over fifty-five. He's never had a day of 
 illness, as far as I know. I thought he'd live for many 
 years." 
 
 "Had he any family?" asked Asenath. She wanted 
 to be sympathetic, but scarcely knew how. She felt so 
 utterly out of all of this. 
 
 "He never married," answered Mary. 
 
 Through Rawlings' head but one idea ran, and that 
 was of the wealth which would come to him through
 
 THE CHOICE 177 
 
 this death. He did not know how much it was, but 
 he was sure that it was a very large amount. He was 
 silent during the rest of the evening, and Asenath, who 
 had forgotten that this death meant riches to her 
 fiance, ascribed his taciturnity to grief. She wanted to 
 comfort him and, when they were alone again, ventured 
 on some slight marks of affection which, at any other 
 time, would have transported him to the seventh 
 heaven, but which, in his present preoccupation, only 
 slightly affected him. 
 
 On his way home, for the first time since Friday 
 evening, he was again in doubt about his engagement. 
 The prospect of immediate great wealth made a dif- 
 ference. His now assured financial position behooved 
 him to be very certain that Asenath would be capable 
 of meeting the requirements of the great social position 
 which he now contemplated. He felt again that he had 
 been foolish in his precipitancy. Why had he sold 
 himself so cheaply after all? He could not understand 
 it and it vexed him. 
 
 What Mary had said of her now came back to him 
 with force. Asenath was ignorant, there was no doubt. 
 She was undoubtedly good, but just as undoubtedly 
 she was not clever. What magic was there in her which 
 controlled him? Why had he capitulated so easily last 
 Friday when the very opportunity which he had sought 
 lay within his grasp? 
 
 As he thought of this, he saw, in imagination, her
 
 178 THE CHOICE 
 
 uplifted face with tears in her eyes and the mute expres- 
 sion of pain, and again he was engulfed in a great wave 
 of sympathy, of desire for her. Ah! Well, he did love 
 her. He had given his word and he had no wish to take 
 it back. 
 
 This new phase of his life surely complicated matters 
 for him. He wondered what he would be called upon to 
 do, what the amount of his fortune would be. He 
 wondered if Asenath had any idea of how lucky she 
 was. And then the thought of the McBrides came to 
 him, their ignorance, their worse than mediocrity, and 
 again his engagement to Asenath was a burden.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A noon the next day, when Asenath called Rawl- 
 ings on the telephone in accordance with their 
 custom, she was much surprised to learn from 
 him that he was going to leave for San Francisco in the 
 evening. 
 
 "Won't I see you before you go?" she inquired. 
 
 "Oh! Yes. I'm not leaving until ten-thirty. I'll be up 
 right after dinner," he replied. 
 
 He had not explained to her the reason for his going, 
 and she wondered what it might be. It was not a matter 
 of the most lively interest for her ; she was but moderately 
 curious. San Francisco seemed a long way off, but she 
 did not know whether it was a journey of two days or 
 one of a week. He had not told her how long he would be 
 away, so she also made a question of this. A week would 
 have seemed about right, but then she remembered that 
 she had no idea of how long it would take to make the 
 journey and, therefore, following her usual custom, she 
 put the whole matter aside. She would know in due 
 course, so why waste time in fruitless speculation? Then 
 came the thought that she would miss him; she had 
 already become thoroughly used to his constant com- 
 panionship. How would she spend her time? 
 
 Rawlings' going had been decided upon as the result 
 of a telegram from his Uncle's lawyer suggesting his 
 
 179
 
 180 THECHOICE 
 
 coming at once to make necessary arrangements. The 
 telegram had informed him that he had been named as 
 one of the executors of the will. 
 
 During the morning, Rawlings had again determined 
 to break his engagement. His thoughts of the evening 
 before came to him with redoubled force. He had always 
 taken himself rather seriously, but, now, he seemed to 
 have become a hundredfold more important than ever 
 before. He felt that he saw the matter clearly, dispas- 
 sionately, where, before, he had been misled by an 
 attachment, an attachment only, for a most charming 
 young girl, it is true, yet one scarcely worthy to share 
 the important position in life which would now become 
 his. It was a sort of infatuation, he admitted, even 
 though, up to the present, it had seemed to him to be 
 much more, a real love affair. He was graciously sorry 
 for her; it would be a great disappointment to her and 
 her family, but, after all, it was much better for her to 
 suffer the pain of parting with him now than for him to 
 bear the burden of her during his whole career. Besides, 
 she was very young and would probably get over it, and, 
 in due course, marry someone in her own station in life. 
 
 He felt immensely relieved when he had come to this 
 decision. There was no room in his satisfaction for self- 
 accusation. He had made a mistake, this much he was 
 willing to allow, but he was going to admit it in a manly 
 way. No one could do more. 
 
 But when, in McBrides' doorway, he again was unable
 
 THE CHOICE 181 
 
 to refuse the invitation in Asenath's upturned face, he 
 knew that he could never break with her in her presence. 
 She was particularly charming to him this evening. She 
 inquired minutely into the length of his stay, how long 
 a time would be required for the journey, about his 
 uncle and many other matters connected with his going 
 away. 
 
 Gradually he fell completely under the spell of her 
 charm and called himself a fool for ever thinking that 
 he could do without her. Presently, he asked her: 
 
 "Will you miss me?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, dreadfully," she answered. "I won't know 
 what to do with myself." 
 
 "You'll write to me every day, won't you?" he asked. 
 
 This was something she had not thought of . Writing let- 
 ters was a fearful undertaking to her. She was reminded 
 of her last attempt, the unfinished letter to Lamed. 
 
 However, she felt compelled to promise to write to 
 him every day. 
 
 " You won't mind how dumb my letters are, will you?" 
 she asked anxiously. " When I start to write, it just seems 
 as though I can't think at all." 
 
 "They will be lovely letters for me, my dear," he 
 said, "for you will have written them." 
 
 And so on. 
 
 One thing he did not mention and that was the for- 
 tune he had inherited. Of course, he did not know that 
 Asenath had forgotten that he had mentioned the mat-
 
 182 THE CHOICE 
 
 ter to her. He could not guess that she thought him 
 rich with his three thousand a year and would have 
 looked on this new fortune as unnecessary; good to 
 have, perhaps, but superfluous. He could not have told 
 why he did not mention this matter to her, although it 
 was the principal subject of his thought apart from his 
 present absorption in her. 
 
 At nine-thirty, he left her with a display of affection 
 even more fervent than usual at their partings. She was 
 almost sad as he left. For the first time, he had aroused 
 some real affectionate emotion in her. Not very much, 
 it is true, and what there was of it distinctly not of a 
 passionate nature, but still enough to make his going 
 seem a real loss. 
 
 As he turned to wave his hand to her at the corner, 
 he saw a sad little smile on her lovely face which smote 
 him with sudden remorse for his unfulfilled, but seri- 
 ously contemplated, determination. 
 
 The following evening Asenath sat herself before the 
 table in her room, laid a sheet of writing paper upon it, 
 picked up a pen, dipped it in the ink and wrote the date 
 at the top of the page. 
 
 Then she gave herself up to thought. How should she 
 address him? "Dear Jim?" No, that was too ordinary. 
 "My darling?" No, that was too gushing. She never 
 called him "darling." Sometimes she would say "Jim, 
 dear." That was it. That was nice and rather original. 
 So she wrote "Jim, dear," at the beginning of the letter.
 
 THE CHOICE 183 
 
 Then came more thought. What should she write? 
 What on earth was there to write? She had not done a 
 single thing all day that wasn't exactly what she did 
 every day. She couldn't write stuff like that to him. 
 Then she questioned herself; what should she say to 
 him if he were with her? Well, he wasn't with her, and 
 she couldn't imagine anything that she would have told 
 him, anyway. It depended on what he would say to her. 
 He always furnished the subjects of their conversation. 
 She wished he was with her; it was fearfully dull sitting 
 there trying to write a letter instead of having him to 
 talk to her and saying such pleasant things, too. She 
 would write that to him. 
 
 So, under the superscription, she wrote: 
 
 I miss you so that I can't tell you how much. 
 I am writing to you but wishing you were here, 
 it is so lonely. I guess you have spoiled me, 
 because before we were engaged I used to sit 
 alone many a night all by myself and I was just 
 as happy as I could be. I hope you will soon 
 be back with me again. 
 
 Mamma and papa are both well and send 
 their best regards. 
 
 With lots of love and kisses, 
 
 Yours ever, 
 Asenath. 
 
 There were a great many words crossed out and other 
 marks of the prodigious labor involved in this composi- 
 tion. Asenath read this first copy several times and found
 
 184 THE CHOICE 
 
 it quite satisfactory. Then she wrote a fair copy, inclosed 
 it in an envelope, which she addressed and then affixed a 
 stamp. Then she ran downstairs and out to the corner 
 box to mail it. 
 
 She felt very happy. As she came back to the house 
 she was humming a tune with great enjoyment. There 
 was no trace in her expression that the loneliness, of 
 which she had complained in her letter, was causing her 
 any depression of spirits. 
 
 Still humming, she came into the house and sat by her 
 mother, who was sewing. They fell into conversation. Mrs. 
 McBride was very curious about Rawlings' departure. 
 She wondered why he had gone away so suddenly. 
 
 " Do you know anything about this Uncle? " she asked. 
 
 "All I know is his name was George and he wasn't 
 married," answered Asenath. 
 
 "Was he rich?" 
 
 "I don't know." Then suddenly she remembered 
 what Rawlings had told her. 
 
 "Yes, I do know, too," she said. "Jim told me some 
 time ago that he would get a lot of money from his 
 Uncle George, but he didn't expect to get it for a long 
 time." She thought for a moment, and then went on: 
 "Jim and Mary were terribly surprised when they got 
 the telegram. He died awful sudden." 
 
 "I guess that's why James went away so sudden," 
 remarked Mrs. McBride. " Did he tell you why he was 
 going?"
 
 THE CHOICE 185 
 
 "Nothing about any money." 
 
 "Was he very fond of his Uncle?" 
 
 " I guess so. When he got the telegram, he was awful 
 quiet." 
 
 " I hope he don't get too much money. It might make 
 him want to change his mind." 
 
 "Change his mind about what?" 
 
 "Change his mindabout marrying a poor girl like you." 
 
 "Why! Mamma; he's just crazy about me." 
 
 "I know, but don't forget it was awful sudden, and 
 maybe well, you never can tell." 
 
 "Never can tell about what?" 
 
 "You never can tell about men. They're awful change- 
 able. To hear them talk you'd think it's the women who 
 are flighty, but I think it's the other way about. Did 
 you write to James? " 
 
 "Yes, I just mailed the letter." 
 
 Somewhat later, as Asenath was undressing, she won- 
 dered whether there was anything in the idea her mother 
 had expressed. Could it be possible that Rawlings might 
 grow tired of her and want to break the engagement? 
 Why, only last night it seemed as though he could never 
 tear himself away. Surely there could be no possible 
 doubt. But if there were, what then? Could she ever 
 be contented again? Could she give up the prospect of 
 the luxurious life on which she had based all of her hopes 
 for the last few weeks? Oh ! it would be awful to contem- 
 plate. It could not be. But the shadow of doubt that
 
 186 THE CHOICE 
 
 her mother had put into her mind persisted. It might be 
 that Rawlings, away from her, might meet some girl 
 whom he would like better. She wished that he had not 
 gone away, she had been so contented, so happy. It was 
 silly to go on like this, she thought; she would put the 
 whole thing out of her mind. She extinguished the light 
 and got into bed, expecting, as usual, that she would be 
 asleep in two minutes. But sleep did not come to her and, 
 instead, the doubt of her lover's constancy did. Well, 
 if he became tired of her and wanted someone else, she 
 couldn't help it. Somebody else would come along some 
 day. Rawlings wasn't the only man on earth. And then 
 Larned came into her mind. How deligthful he was; how 
 lively she felt when she was with him. And how silly 
 she was now to think of his ever caring for her. Besides, 
 her mother was mistaken. Rawlings had shown, in 
 every way, how serious he had considered their engage- 
 ment. Why, he had even considered his kissing her a 
 declaration. Her mother might be right with regard to 
 some men, but never about Rawlings. He was solid; 
 he knew his o^n mind; he was and she fell asleep.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 DURING the next ten days Asenath insensibly 
 dropped back into her old way of life. At first, 
 she really missed Rawlings; that is, when the 
 relief that she felt, the day after his departure, had 
 passed away. 
 
 The next day after that, she found the prospect of 
 spending the evening without seeing him very dull. 
 During the lunch hour, she asked Susan to spend the 
 evening with her, at McBrides', of course, but Susan 
 had made an appointment, "date" she called it, with 
 May Wilson, whose intimate friend she had now become, 
 and, knowing that May did not like Asenath, particularly 
 since the cavalier treatment she had received at the hands 
 of Rawlings, she was unable to accept the invitation. 
 
 That made the prospect of a solitary evening even 
 duller than before. The fact quite justified the expecta- 
 tion. None of her former evening occupations interested 
 her, and, at about half -past eight, she went to bed because 
 of sheer boredom. 
 
 But this was only for a few days. At the end of the 
 first week, Asenath had become quite habituated to 
 Rawlings' absence. He was in her mind, naturally, but 
 not as before. She had become accustomed to going 
 along as she had before he had stepped into her life. 
 
 On the evening of the fourth day of his absence, she 
 
 187
 
 188 THECHOICE 
 
 had received a brief letter from him written en route. 
 Had she had any experience at all in such matters, either 
 at first or second hand, she might have noticed the per- 
 functory quality of his letter, which offered the most 
 violent contrast to his ordinary manner with her. But 
 Asenath did not notice it. To her a letter was a very 
 formal, a most unusual affair. She would have been 
 quick to feel the affectionate quality of a message writ- 
 ten in a warmth of emotion, but she was without any 
 standard which would have enabled her to establish 
 a comparison. 
 
 Another letter of much the same sort followed at an 
 interval of two days, and a third three days later. Just 
 eleven days after his going, she received the last letter 
 which he ever wrote her. It had come in the morning 
 after she had gone to work and she found it awaiting her 
 on the bureau in her room. It was Saturday afternoon 
 and she was home early. She had been wondering whether 
 she would have a letter. Not with impatience, because 
 she had no idea of the time necessary to bring a letter 
 across the continent, but merely with the hope that she 
 might have the pleasurable sensation that the important 
 function of receiving a letter gave her. It was, therefore, 
 with great satisfaction that she opened the envelope and 
 set herself to reading. The letter ran thus: 
 Dear Asenath: 
 
 I don't know how to begin this letter. I 
 want to save you all I can, but I do not know
 
 THE CHOICE 189 
 
 how to say what I feel I must in any way that 
 does not make it painful. I hope you will be 
 able to forgive me the wrong I have done you 
 in acting on an impulse which led me to take 
 what I am now forced to believe was an unjus- 
 tifiable step. 
 
 There is no use trying to put it in any 
 other than the most straightforward way. Our 
 engagement was a terrible mistake and I 
 want you to release me from it. You may 
 ascribe any reason for it that will help to 
 save your feelings. I am willing to confirm any 
 statement that you may care to make. 
 
 I am most miserable over the whole business. 
 I see that I have been altogether at fault, but 
 it is much better that we have the pain now 
 than to look forward to a married life which, 
 I am sure, would make us both unhappy. I 
 have been thinking about nothing else for over 
 a week and I cannot see any other course. 
 
 Drop me a line telling me what you are going 
 to say about it. 
 
 You will always have my esteem and friend- 
 ship, if you want it. You have done nothing at 
 all with which to reproach yourself. The fault 
 
 is mine entirely. . , 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 James Rawlings. 
 
 As the purport of this letter became clear to Asenath, 
 it seemed as though her heart had stopped beating. She 
 read the letter to its end in a sort of semi-stupor. Her 
 mind refused to take in the full meaning of the words
 
 190 THE CHOICE 
 
 before her. It seemed as though she was about to be 
 crushed by some on-moving mass without the ability 
 to avoid it or save herself in any way. She read and 
 re-read the letter many times and, gradually, the con- 
 sciousness of its meaning became clear. Then she sat 
 still and tried to find a reason for it all. What had she 
 done? What could have happened to bring about such 
 a result? Why had he been so ardent in his pursuit of 
 her, if this was his real feeling? What could she do? 
 What could she say? And then anger seized her. She 
 felt that she wanted to hurt him, tear him, destroy him. 
 Oh! but he was mean, brutal, even worse. 
 
 And then the tears came. For a long time she wept 
 quietly with no sensation except that of blank misery. 
 
 Mrs. McBride had awaited her coming downstairs 
 with the letter as long as her curiosity allowed, and, 
 when that had reached its uttermost limit, she came to 
 Asenath's room and entered without formality. The 
 moment she saw her daughter's tear-stained face, with 
 its expression of complete misery, she divined the cause. 
 
 "What on earth's happened?" she cried. 
 
 Asenath handed the letter to her. She read it with a 
 feeling almost of terror. But this was for a short space 
 only. Then indignation seized her. 
 
 "The dirty blackguard," she cried. "The lying 
 hound. To come into a family like this who have always 
 done right and to play us a trick like this. And him a 
 church member, too, who wants to be an elder. I'll show
 
 THE CHOICE 191 
 
 him. I'll make his name as black as his heart is. I'll " 
 
 "Don't, mamma. Please don't talk like that," cried 
 Asenath, not knowing what she said. She would have 
 been irritated by anything her mother might have said. 
 Her speech was simply the expression of her misery. 
 
 " Won't I? " exclaimed Mrs. McBride. " See what your 
 father'll have to say. He'll make him smart for what he's 
 done, the dirty dog." 
 
 "What's the use?" said Asenath. "It won't do any 
 good. He don't want me, that's all. Oh!" and she relapsed 
 into weeping. 
 
 As Mrs. McBride watched Asenath she felt very 
 miserable. She would have liked to take her in her arms 
 to comfort her, but the McBrides never did anything of 
 the sort. They held each other literally at arm's length 
 in all matters of the affections. Among them was the 
 strongest possible family feeling. They were one family, 
 no matter what happened. But it was not possible to 
 learn this from anything that any of them ever said. 
 On the contrary, they criticised each other freely to 
 their friends. Nor could it be determined by any gesture 
 of affection, for none was ever offered. But this clan 
 spirit, the feeling of the indissolvable unity of the family, 
 was shown most clearly by their own acceptance of it. 
 They took it for granted ; they acted as though it were so 
 definite, so settled a matter, that it did not require any 
 evidence of its existence. 
 
 At this bitter moment for Asenath, her mother's arms
 
 192 THE CHOICE 
 
 about her would have sensibly lessened her pain. But she 
 did not know this, for she was unused to marks of 
 affection. Mrs. McBride scarcely ever even kissed her, 
 and when she did it was only a peck. 
 
 Mrs. McBride and Asenath sat there silently in the 
 deepest misery for quite a long while, the mother full of 
 sympathy for her daughter and the latter concerned 
 with her own disappointment only. Gradually the full 
 realization of the event came to Asenath. She was not 
 to be rich ; would not have an automobile, no servants, no 
 elegant house. 
 
 And again she was seized by an unreasoning anger; 
 she wanted to harm Rawlings, to make him suffer as 
 she was suffering now. 
 
 "There's your father," suddenly said Mrs. McBride. 
 There had been the sound of the closing of the front 
 door, but Asenath had not heard it. 
 
 " Will you come down," asked Mrs. McBride, as Asen- 
 ath made no answer, "or will I tell him to come up here? " 
 
 "Must I see him?" asked Asenath. 
 
 "You ought to. He'll know justwhat you ought to do." 
 
 "I'll come down then." 
 
 They went downstairs and found McBride in the 
 dining room. He had taken off his coat and hat and was 
 preparing to remove his shoes when they entered. He 
 greeted them with a nod. 
 
 "What do you think," cried his wife without any 
 other preliminary, "James has broken off with Asenath.
 
 THE CHOICE 193 
 
 Read that!" And she literally pushed the letter into 
 his hand. 
 
 McBride gave no outward sign of the agitation which 
 possessed him as he read the letter, but it caused him 
 to hold himself in a tight grip. He read it slowly, taking 
 in each word. To the two women it seemed an eternity. 
 When he had finished he looked at them for a moment 
 and then said: 
 
 " That'll be the last of him in our church or my name's 
 not McBride. I'll show him that he can't come philander- 
 ing in my house with my daughter." 
 
 "What will everybody say?" cried Mrs. McBride. 
 "What'll we tell them?" 
 
 " We'll tell the truth. There's no disgrace to any of us. 
 The shame is on him. He's the jilt, not our girl. We'll 
 show them in church tomorrow morning." 
 
 "Oh! I can't go to church tomorrow after all this," 
 said Asenath. 
 
 To church you'll go tomorrow if I have to take you 
 out of a sick bed. Do you think I'd have anybody say 
 that we were ashamed or that we were down in the 
 mouth because a lying jilt imposed on us? No; you'll go 
 to church, and you'll hold your head high, too. Do you 
 hear?" 
 
 "Yes, papa," said Asenath.
 
 PART THREE 
 
 LARNED 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 IN the next few weeks Asenath recovered her usual 
 contented outlook on life. Gradually she forgot to 
 dwell upon the loss that she had suffered. She ceased 
 to think of herself as deeply injured unless there was 
 some forcible reminder. At such times, she would indulge 
 in the luxury of self-pity, but, for the most part, she 
 did not think of her short engagement and the brilliant 
 future that she had believed it promised her. She enjoyed 
 her work; she had her usual lively interest in her dress; 
 she went to church willingly, if without enthusiasm, 
 and, in general, was much the same girl as before. 
 Exactly the same she could not have been under any 
 circumstances. 
 
 Her friendship with Susan was maintained, but not 
 with the same interest as before. This was largely owing 
 to Susan's attitude, who, as has been mentioned, had 
 become quite friendly with May Wilson. She had come 
 to be one of the group of boys and girls of which May was 
 a member. She would have been glad to introduce 
 Asenath into "the bunch," as she called it, but for the 
 fact that May did not like Asenath. And, immediately 
 after the breaking of her engagement, Asenath was 
 reluctant to show herself. She felt very much as does the 
 
 194
 
 THECHOICE 195 
 
 average mourner; it seemed to her that it would not be 
 fitting to evince any capability for enjoyment. 
 
 Of course, this feeling wore off promptly, and, in a 
 few weeks, Asenath would have gladly accepted any 
 offer of entertainment. But, by that time, Susan had 
 lost much of her former active interest in her. Just now, 
 Asenath had nothing to offer her in the way of social 
 opportunity. 
 
 Asenath experienced a great relief every time she 
 looked at her edition of Thackeray. That much at 
 least was saved to her; she was no longer compelled to 
 read "Vanity Fair." She had offered these books 
 together with her engagement ring and the la valliere 
 to Mary Dunne shortly after receiving Rawlings' 
 final letter. Mary had found the interview rather 
 painful. She was confident that her brother had done 
 well to break an engagement which he found irksome, 
 as it promised only unhappiness if carried to its eventual 
 conclusion, but the sight of Asenath's obvious effort 
 to appear well under trying circumstances made her 
 distinctly uncomfortable. She was really very sorry 
 for her, although she had complete confidence that a 
 comparatively short period of time would cure her pres- 
 ent trouble. It will be remembered that Mary did not be- 
 lieve that Asenath's affections had been deeply engaged. 
 
 She took the ring and refused to receive the la 
 valliere, asking Asenath to keep it as a mark of her 
 friendship, which, she assured her, had, in no way, been
 
 196 THE CHOICE 
 
 affected by what had happened. Of course, Asenath 
 had not brought the books with her, and Mary advised 
 her to keep them, or, if she found them an unpleasant 
 reminder, to give them away. Asenath did not know 
 how to persist in the face of Mary's kindness and 
 determined to give them to the church library at the 
 first opportunity. But she did not do this promptly, 
 and, finally, she did not do it at all. They were in her 
 room, and, until she had grown so accustomed to their 
 presence there that they lost their identity in the general 
 scheme, she had a malicious pleasure in the thought 
 that she did not have to read them. 
 
 Every now and then she saw Larned either coming 
 into or going out of the building, perhaps as often 
 as once in two weeks, but she never had an opportunity 
 to speak to him until one Monday morning when she 
 met him at the door about two months after their 
 first meeting. 
 
 It was a fine, bright winter morning, not too cold 
 to make standing still in the street uncomfortable, 
 but just enough to be stimulating. Asenath's cheeks 
 offered eloquent testimony of her complete enjoyment of 
 the short walk from the car in this bracing atmosphere. 
 
 She appeared to him so beautiful that he could not 
 resist the temptation to stop to chat with her. 
 
 Asenath was somewhat ahead of her usual time for 
 arrival and they fell into talk easily without any sense 
 of hurry.
 
 THE CHOICE 197 
 
 "How do you do," said Lamed. He was cudgeling 
 his memory for her name. "McBride" he could not 
 remember at all, and the fact that her Christian name 
 was that of Joseph's wife was all that he could recollect. 
 
 "I'm fine," answered Asenath, brightly. She was 
 delighted to meet him. It made her feel gay. 
 
 "How's Joseph?" he asked. 
 
 "Joseph?" 
 
 "I mean your fiance. You know we agreed that his 
 name ought to be Joseph, don't you?" 
 
 This came with a little shock to Asenath. But only 
 a very little one, for with it came a realizing sense that 
 in Larned's presence she was glad to be free. 
 
 "We're not engaged any more," said she. She made 
 this avowal without the difficulty that would naturally 
 have been expected. 
 
 Lamed was somewhat embarrassed. 
 
 "I did not know it," he said, "or I would not have 
 made the stupid joke. I hope I haven't hurt you." 
 
 "Oh! Not at all. It's an old story now nearly two 
 months. I thought everybody knew it." 
 
 Larned wished to put her at her ease. "If I had 
 known it," he said, "I would have been knocking at 
 your door the first moment I thought there was a 
 chance. I suppose I'm too late now." His laugh added 
 just the right indication of the way in which his banter 
 was to be received. 
 
 But Asenath did not wish to consider it as merely a
 
 198 THE CHOICE 
 
 joke. To have him knocking at her door was a con- 
 summation devoutly to be wished. 
 
 "No, you're not," she said, with a smile which 
 accentuated the ingenuousness of her remark. 
 
 Lamed could not resist asking: "Would you really 
 like me to try?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered. 
 
 "Do you think I'll knock in vain?" he asked. 
 
 "When will you come?" she queried, entirely dis- 
 regarding his question. 
 
 "What has that to do with it?" 
 
 "I'd just like to know," she insisted. 
 
 "But you don't answer any of my questions." 
 
 "Don't I? Well, neither do you answer mine." 
 
 "All right. I'll make a bargain with you. I'll answer 
 yours first your sex always has precedence if you'll 
 promise to answer mine." 
 
 "All right," said Asenath, highly delighted, as always 
 when she was talking with him. There was something 
 that she felt differentiated him from all other people 
 she had ever known. Not only was his every word 
 interesting, but he made it easy for her to talk, too. She 
 felt that when she was with him she always knew just 
 what to say. 
 
 "But you haven't promised. So we had better talk 
 about something else. Do you think it will snow?" he 
 asked, looking at the perfectly clear sky with mock 
 seriousness.
 
 THE CHOICE 199 
 
 "I promise," answered Asenath with a smile which 
 made plain her appreciation of his joke. 
 
 "Well then, ask your questions." 
 
 "There's only one. When will you" come to to 
 knock on the door?" 
 
 "How about Wednesday evening?" 
 
 "That's just why I wanted to know, because on 
 Wednesday evening I have to go to prayer meeting." 
 
 "Couldn't we have our own prayer meeting?" 
 
 Asenath laughed gaily. 
 
 "Papa wouldn't stand for that kind of a prayer 
 meeting. He's awful cranky about going to church. I 
 just have to go every Wednesday, no matter what 
 happens." She would have liked to ask him to come 
 some other evening, but something prevented her, 
 she could not have told what. 
 
 "Let me see," he said, thoughtfully. "Thursday, 
 Friday, Saturday. How about Saturday?" 
 
 "That would be fine." 
 
 "Now answer my question." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "Will I knock in vain?" 
 
 "You don't have to knock. You can ring the bell." 
 She said this quite seriously but Lamed took it as a 
 form of humor. He found her more charming than 
 ever; he wanted to become well acquainted with her; 
 he thought that he wished to learn the secret of her 
 attraction for him.
 
 200 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Well, then," he said, "will I ring in vain?" 
 
 "No," said Asenath, "I'll open the door myself." 
 
 "Very well, what's the address?" 
 
 "Same as before," she answered. 
 
 "Oh! that's so," he exclaimed. He had quite for- 
 gotten having her name and address. This was for- 
 tunate, for it saved him admitting that again he had 
 not remembered her name. 
 
 "Saturday then," said Asenath. 
 
 "Saturday," he answered, and they entered the 
 building and went their respective ways. 
 
 At lunch time Asenath told Susan that she had met 
 Lamed again and that he was coming to call on her on 
 Saturday evening. 
 
 "How do you get away with it, Queenie?" asked 
 Susan. 
 
 Asenath showed her pleasure at the implied compli- 
 ment but did not answer the question. Instead, she 
 asked: 
 
 "You remember him, don't you?" 
 
 "Sure, and I remember that stiff he had with him 
 in the country. What was his name?" 
 
 "Graham." 
 
 "Yes, that's it. You sure can put it over. I wish I 
 knew how. What do you do?" 
 
 "I don't do anything. Do you think he likes me?" 
 
 "Ain't he coming to see you?" 
 
 Asenath had no answer for this, which satisfied her,
 
 THE CHOICE 201 
 
 so she dropped the subject, and Susan, observing a 
 well recognized symptom, did not press her inquiry. 
 
 During the morning and at several other times on 
 the following days, Susan's question returned to her 
 mind. What was it that made Larned like her? She 
 thought of the question and wondered what the answer 
 might be. She knew that she was very good looking 
 and briefly this idea came and went, but did not 
 establish a durable connection in her mind with the 
 inquiry set up by Susan's remark. She did not even 
 apply the general principle that men are attracted by 
 feminine beauty, although she knew this precisely as 
 she knew how to discriminate between hot and cold. 
 
 What her mind dwelt on, in this connection, was 
 Larned himself. She had never wanted anybody so 
 before. In his company, she forgot herself completely, 
 she was supremely happy. The sight of him, the sound 
 of his voice, the feeling of his physical presence exercised 
 an almost magical influence upon her. She hung upon 
 his least word, she reacted to his slightest change of 
 expression. Asenath did not know these things as 
 definite facts, they did not make themselves clear to 
 her; she was completely innocent of introspection of 
 any kind. 
 
 But what she did know was that she wanted to see 
 him, that she wished to be with him, and she looked 
 forward to his coming on Saturday with greater interest 
 than she had ever known in anything in her whole life.
 
 202 
 
 THE CHOICE 
 
 She did not wonder why she did so, she made no 
 attempt to analyze her emotions, just as she was 
 quite content not to push the inquiry which Susan's 
 question had brought. That was answered completely 
 in the thought "he must like me."
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE Saturday evening upon which Lamed was 
 to make his call upon Asenath was bright and 
 cold. When he issued from the door of his house 
 he was tempted to walk instead of riding, as he had 
 originally intended. He yielded readily to the tempta- 
 tion, for he was greatly given to walking and, by prefer- 
 ence, alone. It gave him an opportunity for working out 
 his ideas. Larned always walked rapidly and it seemed 
 as though the exhilaration induced by the exercise 
 speeded up his mental faculties in every way. 
 
 On this particular evening he had something to work 
 out. Several times since he had made the appointment 
 with Asenath he wondered what had led him to make it. 
 He admitted readily that she was a very pretty girl, 
 he knew he liked them good looking; that she had excel- 
 lent taste in her dress, he always admired that; her 
 voice was pleasant, her changes of expression most 
 interesting, her smile fascinating, but all of this was not 
 enough. He was confident that she possessed a good 
 mind, even though, in all probability, she was ignorant 
 of many things which are included in a fair education. 
 He did not know this, he had no basis for any such 
 knowledge, but he surmised it. Still, she was young and 
 inexperienced, and, in all probability, had had no edu- 
 
 203
 
 204 THE CHOICE 
 
 cation at all except what she might have picked up in 
 the elementary schools. From what she had told him 
 of the family's church-going habits, he supposed that 
 the influence of her parents had not been of much value 
 in her secular education. 
 
 Truly, except for her looks and a certain general 
 charm, there wasn't much to her; in fact, with these 
 exceptions, she was undoubtedly a commonplace young 
 girl. But then, if this was true, and there did not seem 
 to be any doubt of it, why was he, Harold Prentis 
 Larned, going to see her with great pleasure, why was 
 his anticipation of enjoyment so lively? 
 
 He had asked himself this question several times since 
 he had made the appointment with her, but he had been 
 unable to answer it satisfactorily, and, when he set out 
 on Saturday evening, he took it up again and succeeded 
 in reaching the conclusion that it wasn't worth while 
 trying to find a reason for a given result when not all 
 of the factors were known. He worked the problem out 
 to the point where he admitted that Asenath possessed 
 sufficient charm for him to make him want to be with 
 her, but beyond this he was unable to go. To analyze 
 this quality of hers was impossible in view of the small 
 amount of time he had spent in her company. 
 
 Larned liked to work things out scientifically. He was 
 a good mathematician. His was a most orderly mind. The 
 only child of two fond parents, he had had his own way 
 in life thus far. Whether as a result of his own individual
 
 THE CHOICE 205 
 
 character, or the training he had received, or both, his 
 way was not that of a spoiled child. He had chosen 
 an academic career immediately after his graduation, 
 had followed it for a couple of years and had given it 
 up when he had become somewhat doubtful as to whether 
 it was his true vocation. At the university he had taken 
 the course in electrical engineering, and, therefore, when 
 he reached the decision to discontinue teaching, he had 
 looked for a position in that field and obtained a fairly 
 satisfactory post in the engineering department of the 
 telephone company. 
 
 His father had not offered any opposition, although he 
 had hoped that Harold would have elected to come into 
 his business. While he was by no means a rich man, his 
 knitting mill paid good profits and was what might be 
 called a thoroughly successful business. He and Harold 
 were close friends, their friendship based upon mutual 
 respect and many common interests which Larned senior 
 had carefully cultivated in the younger man, although 
 it must be said that the soil was very fertile and the mere 
 planting of the seed had been all that was necessary. 
 
 Harold's relation to his mother was naturally quite 
 different. He was not alone her "man child," he was her 
 baby as well. Between them existed the most perfect 
 understanding. She was a very wise woman, and, what 
 is more, a very good one. She was not pious, none of 
 them were, but she was kind, considerate, tactful, 
 directed always by the finest motives.
 
 206 THE CHOICE 
 
 This may give some slight idea of the young man who 
 was walking briskly to call on Asenath on this fine 
 Saturday evening. What remains to be learned of him 
 will be disclosed by those incidents and that part of the 
 development of Asenath's early womanhood in which 
 he figured. 
 
 When he arrived at the door of McBrides' house, he 
 was in the most buoyant spirits imaginable. He rang 
 the bell and then turned his back to the door to employ 
 the moment of his waiting in looking at the brilliant 
 full moon. He had scarcely turned before he heard the 
 noise of the door being opened. He was just in time in 
 turning back to meet the full opening of the door and, 
 in the bright moonlight, he saw a vision which he 
 never forgot. It was Asenath, in her simple, tasteful 
 dress, her face illumined by a smile which expressed a 
 quality of welcome which it would be impossible to put 
 into words. 
 
 "How do you do," she said, holding out her hand. 
 
 He took it and looked at her for a moment without 
 speaking. 
 
 "You're as good as your word," he said as he relin- 
 quished her hand and followed her into the house. They 
 went into the parlor after Larned had hung up his coat 
 and hat on the rack in the hall. 
 
 "I've been in an awful fix about you," Asenath said, 
 while he was hanging up his coat. 
 
 "What was that?" he asked.
 
 THE CHOICE 207 
 
 "Papa wanted to know all about you and I couldn't 
 tell him a single thing except that you worked for the 
 company and you used to teach school and your name 
 and how old you were." 
 
 "Well, wasn't that enough?" 
 
 " He wanted to know where you went to church and 
 I couldn't tell him because I didn't know." 
 
 "I told you." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "Down in the country by the brook. Don't you 
 remember?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "I told you I never went to church." 
 
 "Oh! I know that. But that ain't what I mean." 
 
 " What do you mean?" 
 
 "What church does your family go to?" 
 
 "None." 
 
 "They must belong to some church." 
 
 "Oh! I see. Well, the last association, official of course, 
 of any of the members of my family, was with the Uni- 
 tarian Church." 
 
 " I never heard of that church. Where is it? " 
 
 "At Paley and Horton Streets there's one." 
 
 "Is it anything like the Presbyterian Church?" 
 
 " Some people call the Unitarians Presbyterian Jews." 
 
 "You're not a Jew, are you?" 
 
 "No. But what is the reason of your father's interest 
 in my religion?"
 
 208 THE CHOICE 
 
 "He's awful cranky about who comes to see me, and 
 he asked me a lot of questions. I couldn't tell him about 
 your church and then he raised a fuss about your 
 coming here until he asked me if your father was in 
 the Lamed Hosiery Company and I told him 'yes, he 
 was'." 
 
 " How did you know it? I never told you." 
 
 " I didn't know it, but he had me near crazy with all 
 his old questions and when he asked me that I just said 
 'yes' before I thought. Then it was all right, for his 
 factory they make packing boxes does business with 
 the Lamed Hosiery Company." 
 
 "So, I'm all right now, am I?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 This was a great deal of talk for Asenath, so much, in 
 fact, that she was surprised at her own verbosity. 
 
 Larned had been much interested in what she had told 
 him. He thought he had never seen such charming 
 naivete. He had been quite conscious of her rather crude 
 speech, but it did not affect him unpleasantly. Asenath's 
 pleasure in his visit showed itself in an unusual anima- 
 tion. She felt lively, gay, happy, and her color and 
 expression evidenced this strongly. He found her even 
 more beautiful than he had thought her. He was enjoy- 
 ing himself keenly. 
 
 They talked of other things; every subject was intro- 
 duced by Larned and practically all of the talking was 
 done by him. Asenath hung on his least word and indi-
 
 THE CHOICE 209 
 
 cated her interest both by her expression and an occa- 
 sional monosyllable. At length, to illustrate something 
 he had just told, Larned said: 
 
 "It was just like old Gradgrind in 'Hard Times.' You 
 know?" 
 
 He said this quite unconsciously, taking it for granted 
 that she knew the story. Had he thought, he would have 
 known better. The pause which followed his remark was 
 occasioned by his considering how he might best relieve 
 her from what he was afraid would be an embarrassing 
 situation. But Asenath was not embarrassed at all. 
 She said : 
 
 "No, I don't. Tell me about it." 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 "About 'Old Gradgrind'." 
 
 "He was a character in a book by Dickens called 
 'Hard Times.' He kept a school You don't want me to 
 tell you the story." 
 
 "Would I like it?" 
 
 "What kind of stories do you like?" 
 
 "I don't know. I've never read any." 
 
 "None at all?" 
 
 "I read a few pages in 'Vanity Fair.' Jim gave me the 
 whole set, but I didn't like it." 
 
 This was decidedly a new phase. To Larned it seemed 
 almost impossible that a girl of nineteen could never 
 have read anything. He was much interested. This offered 
 him an opportunity to be useful.
 
 210 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Was that really the first book you ever tried?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "The first grown-up book." 
 
 "You might have a great deal of pleasure from read- 
 ing. Would you like to try a book I have, one I'm sure 
 you'd enjoy?" 
 
 Asenath would willingly have tried anything that 
 Lamed suggested. 
 
 "I'd love to," she said. 
 
 "The book is called 'Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage 
 Patch.' I'll send it to you." 
 
 "Thank you," said Asenath. The name of the book 
 was rather promising, and then Lamed had said she 
 would like it and that carried conviction. 
 
 "Would you like me to bring the book with me the 
 next time I come, provided, of course, that you want 
 me to come again, and then I could read some of it to 
 you." 
 
 "Oh! That would be grand," said Asenath, with en- 
 thusiasm. And then she added gravely: "I guess you 
 think I'm awful dumb." 
 
 " I certainly do not. Stupidity isn't a matter of educa- 
 tion. A really stupid person would be one who had had 
 the advantages an education offers, but who was not 
 able to get anything out of it. On the other hand, there 
 must be many people who have fine minds but who, 
 through poverty or other circumstances, never have had 
 the opportunity to learn. You're very foolish to think
 
 THE CHOICE 211 
 
 of yourself as stupid merely because you haven't had 
 the chance to acquire a taste for reading. You're plenty 
 young enough to begin now. I don't suppose that you 
 ever had the chance to go to the high school, did you? " 
 
 "No!" said Asenath. " I only went part way through 
 the grammar school." She was delighted to learn that 
 Larned did not think her "dumb." He did not use that 
 word. He said "stupid." She made a mental note to 
 employ it herself hereafter. 
 
 "I don't suppose any of your folks read much, do 
 they?" 
 
 "Papa reads the Bible and the papers." 
 
 "Well! We'll begin your literary education the next 
 time I come." 
 
 "When will you come?" 
 
 "We'll arrange that later on." 
 
 Larned left rather early. He had had a delightful 
 evening. He had found Asenath most refreshing and he 
 told himself that he could be of use to her in helping 
 her to acquire a taste for books. It was an interesting 
 experiment. No longer did he question the basis of her 
 attraction for him. She had every attribute of feminine 
 charm, and, in addition, she offered him this exceptional 
 opportunity. The teacher in him leaped to it as the trout 
 to the fly. 
 
 All of his carefully reared edifice of psychology fell to 
 the ground in the face of Asenath 's personality. His 
 pride in his own invulnerability would not permit him
 
 212 THE CHOICE 
 
 to see that his was just another case of a man meeting 
 the woman who holds for him that inscrutable attrac- 
 tion which defies his own analysis. He did not yet know 
 that she was that woman. He knew only that he was 
 happy in her presence and the opportunity to teach her 
 seemed a satisfactory reason for his extraordinary 
 interest in her. He was quite willing to admit a fondness 
 for certain of her sex as a sufficient basis for an ordinary 
 interest.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 ON the second Tuesday evening following, Larned 
 presented himself at McBrides' in fulfillment of 
 an appointment he had made with Asenath a 
 few days before. She met him at the door. Never in her 
 life had she been so eager about anything or anybody as 
 she was now with regard to Larned. He was in her mind 
 much of the time. She had his image before her; she 
 remembered the play of expression on his face; she heard 
 his voice. She made no attempt to study his character 
 or his mentality; she did not try to analyze either the 
 man or his actions. Asenath's mind never worked that 
 way. She thought of persons and things as concrete 
 entities only. Mentally, she looked at them, heard them, 
 felt them, but she neither analyzed nor classified them 
 in any but the most obvious way. 
 
 Larned's visit had strongly confirmed her liking for 
 him. She felt safe with him because he appeared to 
 understand just what she wanted. She seemed to have no 
 conscious desire to make an impression of any kind 
 upon him. What she wanted was to be with him and 
 that was all. He filled her horizon completely. 
 
 When, in speaking of his visit to Susan, that young 
 woman had made a pointed remark which intimated 
 that here was a new suitor to take the place of the 
 old, Asenath actually felt a sense of shock. She had not 
 
 213
 
 214 THE CHOICE 
 
 dreamed of it. That she should ever even fancy that so 
 wonderful a person as Larned might look upon her in 
 this way seemed incredible. 
 
 She had no standard by which to measure his intel- 
 lectual gifts. In fact, they seemed to her to be immeasur- 
 able. She admired his intellect vaguely; she was sure 
 that his learning was immense; but what made her 
 happy in the mere thought of him was not admiration, 
 but that he awoke in her a quality of emotion which 
 hitherto she had never known, the joy of which was so 
 great and so thrilling as to be almost painful. Many 
 times between his first visit and the appointment of the 
 second she wondered how soon he would come again. 
 And her wondering was a yearning for him, a desire to 
 be with him so strong that there was no mistaking it. 
 After the appointment was made, she counted the 
 intervening hours. 
 
 There had been quite a heavy snowfall on that Tues- 
 day afternoon, which contributed greatly to Larned 's 
 joy in living. He could not account for it, but he loved 
 the snow. He recognized the strength of the points that 
 his father was able to make against it in their jocular 
 arguments on the subject, but retorted always that, in 
 spite of the fact that he could not justify his enjoyment 
 of the snow by reason, he still liked it. So, this evening 
 he trudged the nearly two miles that separated his home 
 from Asenath's through a covering of snow which was 
 six inches thick in many places. He reached McBrides'
 
 THE CHOICE 215 
 
 in a high state of physical exhilaration, not in the least 
 fatigued by his exertion, and in the best humor possible. 
 
 Asenath promptly responded to his high spirits, and, 
 as was usual with her when in his company, was almost 
 talkative. Larned jested with her, paid her mock com- 
 pliments, made fun of himself, and she, reacting to his 
 humor rather than understanding it, was transported 
 with delight. 
 
 Presently she said : 
 
 "You promised to bring me a book. Did you forget 
 it?" 
 
 " By no means," he answered. " It's in my coat pocket. 
 I'll get it." He went into the hall and returned almost 
 immediately with the book in his hand. 
 
 "Shall I read to you?" he inquired. 
 
 "Oh! Yes," she answered with fervor. 
 
 He began the simple story with some doubt in his 
 mind. He was afraid that, after all, he may have under- 
 rated her literary taste. The story was simply childish. 
 At home he had read through enough of it in half an 
 hour to learn the character of its contents. He had been 
 moved to recommend it to Asenath because he had heard 
 it discussed by some very young girls. They had pro- 
 nounced it "lovely." 
 
 He read well, making the most of the material in 
 hand, and, as he glanced up from time to time, he saw 
 that Asenath' s whole attention was fixed and that she 
 was enjoying both the story and the characterization to
 
 216 THECHOICE 
 
 the full. Then he knew that he had chosen wisely, and he 
 believed that he had hit upon the path which would 
 eventually lead her out on the high road of literary 
 appreciation. 
 
 "How do you like it?" he asked when he ceased 
 reading. 
 
 "I love it," said Asenath with enthusiasm. "Isn't it 
 funny?" 
 
 " It's very fine," he said. " It isn't exactly true to life, 
 but then it seems to be true to certain ideals that many 
 people have. You know what I mean, don't you?" 
 
 Asenath would have given much to be able to say that 
 she did know, but she did not and she said so. Never 
 before had she felt that she was lacking in any respect. 
 The people whom she had met hitherto, while they had 
 not given her any sense of superiority, had not, on the 
 other hand, made her feel inferior. She had always felt 
 that what she did not know was not worth knowing. 
 But this man was different. With him, she was conscious 
 of an intense desire to respond to his every mood, to be 
 everything that he might wish her. 
 
 "What I mean is this," he went on. "Suppose all your 
 life, whenever you ate a cherry, you had been told that 
 it was a strawberry. You would naturally think all cher- 
 ries were strawberries, wouldn't you?" 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath, wondering what possible con- 
 nection this could have with the book they had just 
 been reading.
 
 THE CHOICE 217 
 
 "Well, then," he continued, "if you were given a 
 strawberry and told it was a strawberry, you wouldn't 
 believe it, would you?" 
 
 "No," said Asenath, more mystified than ever. 
 
 "You would eat it and enjoy it. You would recognize 
 that it was some kind of fruit. You might even be willing 
 to admit, just to avoid an argument, that it was a straw- 
 berry, but all the time you'd say to yourself, 'They may 
 think this is a strawberry, maybe it is some kind of 
 strawberry, but I know what a real strawberry is.' 
 And what you'd think was the real strawberry would 
 actually be a cherry. Now, what I'm getting at is this: 
 People go on living their ordinary lives every day. They 
 get so accustomed to doing everyday things that they 
 don't think about them except as parts of themselves. 
 You see your hands, but you don't think of what won- 
 derful things they are, what enormous capabilities they 
 have. You get out of bed every morning. You know it, 
 but it's so usual a thing that you don't think of it. 
 That's the way with all of the things we do, with all of 
 our lives. So, when we think of Me or adventure, it seems 
 to us that we must have something unusual, something 
 different from what we do every day. And to satisfy 
 this demand, we are given fanciful pictures of life in 
 books, in plays and in the movies. And we think that 
 these fanciful pictures, these cherries, to go back to my 
 illustration, really depict life and are the real straw- 
 berries. Do you see?"
 
 218 THECHOICE 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath, with her lips only. She was quite 
 bewildered. The words were plain, their meaning was 
 evident, but she could not understand it as a whole. 
 
 Larned saw that he had not succeeded in making the 
 matter plain to her. He said: 
 
 " I'm afraid I haven't explained it very well. Tell me 
 what you don't understand." 
 
 "I don't see what strawberries and cherries " and 
 there she stuck. She could not utter another word. A 
 flush spread over her face, a mute, but eloquent, testi- 
 mony of her confusion and embarrassment. Larned per- 
 ceived it and felt guilty. .He was conscious of a great 
 feeling of tenderness towards this girl. He wanted to 
 soothe her, comfort her. 
 
 "Oh! Let's talk about something else more interesting. 
 There's no use in picking things apart like that after 
 all. Do you like snowy weather? " 
 
 His tone, even more than his words, quite reassured 
 Asenatih. 
 
 She answered quickly: 
 
 "I just love it." 
 
 "How would you like to put on your things and go 
 out for a short walk?" 
 
 "Fine," she answered. "I'll get my coat and hat and 
 rubbers. I'll only be a minute." 
 
 She returned in only a little more time than she had 
 said and they went out. It had stopped snowing and the 
 sky had cleared. Tramping in the snow was delicious to
 
 THE CHOICE 219 
 
 both of them. Giving themselves up to the exuberance of 
 their spirits, they joked and laughed at everything they 
 had in common. It was a most delightful half hour for 
 both of them. When they returned to McBrides', Lamed 
 did not go in but stood on the step for a few minutes 
 chatting. He was just about to go after arranging to call 
 again on the following Tuesday evening, when McBride 
 came up. Asenath introduced the two men. McBride 
 was not unfavorably impressed by Lamed. 
 
 "I've met your father," he said. "He's a fine man, 
 square as they make 'em. I don't suppose he'd remember 
 me though." 
 
 "He's all you say, Mr. McBride. I'll ask him if 
 he remembers you. Your daughter says that your 
 concern does business with him." 
 
 "Yes, for many a year. And it's a pleasure to work 
 for a concern like that." 
 
 "Well, good-night," said Lamed as he went off. 
 
 "Good-night," said the others and went into the house. 
 
 "He seems a fine young man," said McBride when the 
 door was closed . "Did you find out what church he goes to?" 
 
 "They're Unitarians," said Asenath. 
 
 "Unitarians, hm. I don't think much of that church. 
 They're as bad as Episcopalians, not that there 
 ain't good people in all religions. Maybe you could 
 get him to come to our church." 
 
 "I'll ask him," said Asenath doubtingly. She was 
 delighted that her father approved of Lamed.
 
 220 THE CHOICE 
 
 Their walk in the snow had made a glorious ending 
 to what had been the happiest evening she had ever 
 spent. As she slowly undressed she took an infinite 
 delight in remembering what he had said to her and 
 how he had looked when he said it. Then she thought 
 of the whole week which must elapse before he would 
 come again. It seemed an endless vista of empty 
 evenings. The days, except Sunday, were not so bad, 
 because she was occupied and her work was a pleasure 
 to her. Oh! If she could see him every evening, if only 
 for a few minutes. Suddenly she thought of her failure 
 to understand his explanation of the cherries and 
 strawberries, for that was the way she remembered it, 
 and was filled with apprehension. He must think her 
 awfully dumb. No, not dumb, stupid. And the mere 
 correction of this word gave her hope. She would 
 learn from him. He would teach her. She would be 
 worthy of his society. And in pursuance of this idea, 
 she took up "Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch" and 
 began to read where he had left off. 
 
 She read very slowly, but with such great interest 
 that she continued until long after her usual hour 
 for retiring. Finally she fell asleep, sitting in her rocking 
 chair with the book in her hand. She slept thus for 
 about an hour and then awoke, much surprised to 
 learn what had happened to her. She finished her 
 arrangements for the night and went to bed.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 C NED'S recognition of Asenath's mental limita- 
 tions might have chilled his interest in her 
 were it not for the fact that that interest was 
 founded in no way upon that part of her personality. 
 Her attraction for him was so certain that he could 
 not help taking a most lenient view of her failure to 
 understand his attempted explanation of the view of 
 life offered by some writers of fiction. He began by 
 admitting that it was a very poor explanation at best, 
 and that it was scarcely fair to expect so inexperienced 
 a girl to grasp immediately an idea which, after all, 
 was shared by very few people. 
 
 When he had dismissed this doubt of her intelligence, 
 he was at liberty to think of other things, of which 
 he had plenty, and in the main he thought very little 
 of Asenath during the following week. Every now and 
 then she came into his mind, and he looked forward 
 to his coming visit to her with pleasure. 
 
 Asenath opened the door for him on the following 
 Tuesday. She had been waiting for his ring for nearly 
 a quarter of an hour. The pleasure she expressed in 
 her salutation added much to the charm of her appear- 
 ance, and, as he took her hand, he was sensible of a 
 sudden thrill at the contact of her smooth skin in his 
 
 221
 
 222 THE CHOICE 
 
 fingers. Pleasant as he found it, he relinquished her 
 hand almost immediately. 
 
 When they were seated in the parlor, he asked her 
 how she had spent the week. 
 
 "I finished 'Mrs. Wiggs'," she said. "Do you mind?" 
 
 "Of course not. What do you think of it?" 
 
 "I think it's just sweet. Isn't it fine how Robert and 
 Lucy come together again just through the Wiggses?" 
 
 "Did you like that part best?" 
 
 "I liked it all. I didn't expect to read much of it 
 at first. I thought I'd wait for you to read it to me, 
 but I just couldn't wait. It was so interesting." 
 
 "Well, I've brought you another book, 'Rebecca of 
 Sunny Brook Farm/ I think you'll like that, too. Shall 
 I read a little of it to you?" 
 
 "Oh! Yes. Please." 
 
 He read for half an hour. She was intensely interested 
 and was sorry when he stopped with the remark: 
 
 "Now, let's talk. You can finish the book yourself." 
 
 "All right, but it's much nicer when you read to me." 
 
 Lamed made no doubt of his ability to interest her 
 in better literature than this. He was greatly pleased 
 with himself for having hit the right note. He was 
 moved to learn whether she had any particular ambition 
 in life and asked her if she ever thought of what she 
 would like to be when she was twenty-five. 
 
 "I don't know," she answered. 
 
 "Have you never thought about it at all?"
 
 THE CHOICE 223 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You expect to be married, don't you?" 
 
 This brought a sudden memory of her broken engage- 
 ment. 
 
 "When I was engaged to Jim, sometimes I used to 
 think about what we'd do when we were married." 
 
 "What did you think you would do?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. I thought we'd have a nice house, 
 and go out to parties, and dances and ," she paused, 
 wondering what Lamed thought of such amusements. 
 
 "And the theatre?" he put in. 
 
 "Do you know," said Asenath, "I've never been to a 
 theatre, except movies." 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 "Papa never would let me go. He thinks they're 
 wicked places. Are they?" 
 
 "I don't think so." 
 
 "He doesn't know I've ever danced. He thinks 
 that's wicked, too. Do you?" 
 
 "No, I think it's a bore." 
 
 "Do you?" said Asenath with great surprise. "I 
 think it's lovely. Have you ever tried it?" 
 
 "No," said Lamed. "It's always seemed a silly thing 
 to do; I've never had any time for it." 
 
 "I'm sure you'd just love it. I wish you'd try it." 
 
 Larned was surprised to find that he rather wanted 
 to learn to dance, now that she had asked him. It 
 seemed to him that it might be nice to dance with her.
 
 224 THE CHOICE 
 
 As he was on his way home, he tried again to deter- 
 mine why he found so much pleasure in her society. 
 He marshaled all of her attractions: her beauty, her 
 ingenuousness, her pleasant voice, her obvious liking 
 and admiration for him. But they were not enough, he 
 felt, to account for the delight, it is not too strong a 
 word, which he experienced when with her. "Oh! 
 What's the use?" he said to himself. "I like seeing her 
 and it certainly doesn't harm either of us, so I'll just 
 go on until I'm tired of it." This last aspect of the 
 matter was based on his previous experience with 
 every girl who had interested him thus far. 
 
 One day in the week that followed, he had a sudden 
 idea. Asenath's remarks about dancing came back to 
 him as his eye happened to rest on an advertisement of 
 private dancing lessons. He would take some lessons 
 without mentioning the matter to anyone. He would 
 probably never make use of his ability, were he to 
 acquire it, but it would be better to refuse to dance 
 because he had tried it and did not care for it, than to 
 be compelled to refuse because he wasn't able. 
 
 He took a few lessons, found it easy to learn, and, 
 besides, quite enjoyable. He was almost vexed with 
 himself at first for taking pleasure in a thing he had 
 rather despised, but this did not last long. 
 
 His visits to Asenath on Tuesday evenings had 
 become a regular function to which he looked forward 
 with increasing eagerness. He brought her a new book
 
 THE CHOICE 225 
 
 nearly every week, gradually increasing the quality. 
 It was a wonderful new world to her. She was often 
 impatient during the day for the evening to come so 
 that she might take up the story which she happened 
 to be reading where she had left it. 
 
 She learned much from her reading without having 
 any such intention. Larned had told her to write down 
 the words she did not understand and show them to 
 him. He defined them as well as he was able and, one 
 evening, brought her a small dictionary and showed 
 her how to use it. Asenath's vocabulary was thus 
 improved, but it was bettered also by her unconscious 
 adoption of many of Larned's expressions. When she 
 read, she did as children do; she read with her lips 
 and mentally pronounced each word. In this way she 
 acquired many new expressions with which, at first, 
 she much surprised Larned. 
 
 Not only did she learn words and their use, she 
 learned much about life in general which she had never 
 even suspected. There was a great deal in her reading 
 which she did not understand, but Larned, who had a 
 considerable strain of the teacher in him, had brought 
 her to ask him for an explanation of anything which 
 was not clear to her, and this gave an added zest to 
 their weekly meetings. 
 
 One evening, in the early spring, while it was still 
 quite cool, he had proposed a walk. Asenath complied 
 at once and they turned their steps towards the centre
 
 226 THE CHOICE 
 
 of the city. They were discussing, that is, Larned was 
 discussing, some book which she had just finished and 
 both of them were so much interested that they took 
 no account of the distance they went. Suddenly, 
 Larned noticed that they were in the centre of the dis- 
 trict in which the principal hotels were located and 
 were immediately in front of one of the popular cafes 
 of the better class. He asked her: 
 
 "How would you like to stop in here and have a 
 bite to eat. I'm hungry." 
 
 "All right," said Asenath, delighted, "if you don't 
 mind my not being dressed." 
 
 "You're better dressed than most of the people you'll 
 see in there," he said. 
 
 They went in and took seats in the nearly empty 
 cafe. It was not quite ten o'clock. The waiter came and 
 took their order. Larned went on with his talk, but 
 Asenath's attention was not what it had been before. 
 Her eyes were busy, for there was much to attract 
 them. She took in the costumes above all, but nothing 
 much escaped her. 
 
 The waiter came presently with the food they had 
 ordered, and, as he left them after serving it, Asenath 
 noticed the musicians taking their places. Shortly after, 
 the music was heard and a few couples began to dance- 
 
 "Oh!" said Asenath, "I wish" 
 
 "What do you wish?" 
 
 "Oh! It's nothing nothing of any consequence."
 
 THECHOICE 227 
 
 "I wish you'd tell me," he pleaded. 
 
 "I'd much rather not." 
 
 "Please do," he insisted. 
 
 "Well, I was going to say that I wished you cared 
 for dancing." 
 
 "Would you like to dance with me?" 
 
 "Very much, but you don't care for it and, besides, 
 you don't know how." 
 
 "Would you be willing to try it with me?" 
 
 " Right here, before everybody? " 
 
 "Yes, right here. Are you game?" 
 
 "Sure," and she got up from her chair. Lamed did 
 likewise and presently they were dancing. 
 
 Asenath was completely surprised. She thought it 
 wonderful. As a matter of fact, Lamed was already a 
 fair dancer, and with Asenath, to whom the exericse was 
 almost like second nature, it was easy to dance well. 
 She was perfectly happy. And he he learned that to 
 have Asenath in his arms was the most delicious sensa- 
 tion he had ever known. 
 
 "Tell me, Harold, when did you learn to dance?" 
 she asked. They had agreed a few weeks before to 
 address each other by their Christian names, but Asenath 
 had not completely acquired the habit. She always 
 thought of him as Harold, but, generally, when she was 
 with him, she avoided the use of his name. 
 
 "You're teaching me now. Anybody could dance with 
 you."
 
 228 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Honest, when did you learn?" 
 
 " I told you. I'm learning now. How am I getting along? " 
 
 "Please don't kid me. Tell me when you learned." 
 
 " It's a long story, girl. Some day we'll take a week 
 off and 111 tell it to you." 
 
 They danced a couple of times and then they went 
 home. On the way Larned told her of his having taken 
 a few lessons shortly after they had talked of it. He was 
 very gay, and very happy, and he ornamented the 
 account with every kind of folly that occurred to him. 
 Asenath was supremely happy, for she was sure that he 
 had learned to dance simply to please her. 
 
 When he had finished, she said : " You dance wonder- 
 fully. I'm so glad you've learned. Don't you just love it? " 
 
 "I'll have to admit that I was an awful ass about it. 
 It's real good fun, provided " He stopped, which was 
 quite unusual with him. This time it was because he 
 was about to say that it was good fun provided he might 
 dance with her. He did not want to say it because it 
 was too true. He felt that the pleasure was not mere 
 dancing, but dancing with her. 
 
 Asenath took him up. She said: "Provided what?" 
 
 "Oh! Provided one's in the humor." 
 
 "I want to ask you a question," she said. 
 
 "Shoot." 
 
 "Father," she no longer said "papa," "asked me to 
 ask you if you wouldn't like to come to our church next 
 Sunday evening."
 
 THECHOICE 229 
 
 "That's easy. I would not." 
 
 "He'll be terribly disappointed. There's going to be 
 some special music." 
 
 "Anything that's any good? " 
 
 "Oh! Yes. We have some real good music at our 
 church. The only trouble is Mr. Harmon, our minister, 
 don't ever seem able to get off a short sermon." 
 
 "Is he a good talker?" 
 
 "Everybody says so." 
 
 "What do you think?" 
 
 "I never listen to him. I just sit and think about 
 other things." 
 
 "And size up the women's dresses, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes, I do that, too. Usually there ain't much to size 
 up though. Will you come?" 
 
 "Would you very much like me to?" 
 
 "Yes. If you think you won't mind it too much." 
 
 "All right, I'll come. Tell your father that you'll 
 lead the lamb to the slaughter." 
 
 When Larned was on his way home that night, he 
 felt so happy that he seemed to be treading on air. 
 "What's got into me?" he asked himself. "I've never 
 done anything like this before. Am I getting to be weak- 
 minded? Oh! Well! What's the use of philosophizing 
 over my sad state. I enjoy being with her and that's all 
 there is to it. But all the same, she's the loveliest little 
 girl I've ever met."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 ENTED had not attended a Sunday evening service 
 for quite a long time. His recollection of the 
 last was indistinct, except on one point and that 
 was that he had been fearfully bored. In spite of this, 
 however, he looked forward to accompanying Asenath 
 on the coming Sunday with a certain amount of interest, 
 not a small part of which was curiosity as to her actual 
 mental attitude toward the services. 
 
 Asenath had expected that he would call for her on 
 Sunday evening, although no definite arrangement had 
 been made. When the time came for the McBrides to 
 go to church, she accompanied her father and mother, 
 although she would have preferred waiting for Larned. 
 However, McBride would not hear of her waiting. Going 
 to church with him was like the time and tide, which are 
 reputed to wait for no man. Asenath was quite upset, but 
 did not venture to show her feeling to her father. 
 
 As they approached the church, she was delighted to 
 see Larned waiting on the steps. McBride was quite as 
 much pleased, although his feeling had an entirely dif- 
 ferent basis. With him it was pride in his church, the 
 zeal of the missionary. With her it was the joy of being 
 with Larned, the pride in being accompanied publicly by 
 so seemly a man. 
 
 Salutations over, they seated themselves in the 
 McBride pew. Larned was conscious that his entrance 
 
 230
 
 THE CHOICE 231 
 
 with Asenath was a subject of interest to many of the 
 congregation, but particularly to the younger element. 
 He was somewhat amused, but Asenath, who was also 
 well aware of the curiosity which Larned's coming with 
 her had excited, was distinctly gratified. To her it 
 seemed that whatever stigma Rawlings' defection had 
 cast upon her was removed. 
 
 A few minutes after they were seated, the organ was 
 heard beginning the first movement of Mendelssohn's 
 "Hymn of Praise." It was well played on a fair instru- 
 ment and Lamed enjoyed it thoroughly. He remarked 
 Asenath's complete absorption in the music and was 
 somewhat surprised at it, for they had never discussed 
 the subject of music at all, he having taken it for granted 
 that she had no interest in it. He determined to speak 
 to her about it. 
 
 In the anthem which followed, a standard work which 
 the choir executed fairly well, her interest was also 
 marked, but the subsequent hymn in which the congre- 
 gation joined lustily, even if with considerable uncer- 
 tainty as to pitch, seemed both to annoy and amuse her. 
 At a favorable moment, she whispered to him: 
 
 "Ain't it awful?" 
 
 The short prayer, which came next, was of the usual 
 order. Asenath, he was sure, had no thought for either 
 the words or their meaning. This was also true of her 
 mental attitude towards the Scripture reading. All of 
 this, including the explanation, was of the regular kind.
 
 232 THE CHOICE 
 
 It seemed to Lamed that the majority of the congrega- 
 tion simply offered their physical presence as a mark of 
 their devotion and went no further. 
 
 Then came the long prayer and the collection. The 
 latter offered an opportunity for a few whispered remarks 
 between Asenath and Larned regarding the anthem 
 about to be sung. 
 
 Any musical enjoyment which came to Larned from 
 the anthem was offset by the hymn that followed, in 
 which the congregation again showed its utter disregard 
 of the pitch. 
 
 To Larned, the sermon, on a text from the Scripture 
 reading, was a beautiful illustration of sheer verbosity. 
 Everything in it which was not hackneyed was inappro- 
 priate. 
 
 It was an extemporaneous affair and showed it plainly. 
 Nearly two-thirds of it was devoted to dividing the 
 matter into various heads, and almost all of the balance 
 to subjects foreign to the thread of the discourse, and 
 the very last part of it to an assumption that the pre- 
 vious statements had been proved. It was full of impos- 
 ing expressions, all of them wearing the mark of age- 
 long use. It was illogical, intemperate and, to Larned, 
 ignorant. 
 
 What interested him was the congregation. Those who 
 listened seemed to be caught by the sound of the phrases; 
 there was no indication to him that the subject itself was 
 brought home to them. But the majority of them, he was
 
 THE CHOICE 233 
 
 sure, were not even listening. They simply sat there, 
 accomplishing their devotion by their physical presence, 
 as he had felt of them earlier in the evening. 
 
 It was a tedious half hour before it was over. There 
 was an unmistakable air of relief throughout the church 
 when the end was reached and the singing of the response 
 by the choir, a sentimental hymn, was really music to 
 their ears. It was well sung and offered a striking con- 
 trast to the congregation's performance of the hymn 
 which followed. 
 
 The benediction lasted only a minute and its close 
 was the sign for undisguised satisfaction. Some went 
 away immediately, but a considerable number broke 
 up into groups and exchanged news and opinions. 
 
 Larned heard Asenath say softly: 
 
 "Let's duck." 
 
 He was only too glad to obey this significant request, 
 and hastily bidding good-night to the McBrides and 
 thanking them, left the church with her. 
 
 "What did you think of it?" she asked. 
 
 " It was very interesting." 
 
 "Interesting? How?" 
 
 " It was interesting to see all those people who come 
 there week after week and go through that same per- 
 formance without thought, without any real devotion. 
 I wonder what the minister must think, if he really can 
 think, of the actual effect of his work. What's your 
 opinion?"
 
 234 THE CHOICE 
 
 " I don't know. I never thought about it." 
 
 "What did you think of the sermon?" 
 
 " I never listen to them." 
 
 "You remember the text, don't you?" 
 
 "No, I wasn't paying any attention. I was thinking 
 of something else." 
 
 "Did you pay any attention to the prayers?" 
 
 "No, I've heard all of them so often. They're all the 
 same." 
 
 "See here, Asenath, hasn't this thing any meaning 
 to you at all?" 
 
 "I don't know. I never think about it." 
 
 "Do you consider yourself a believer, a Christian?" 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "Do you believe in the divinity of Christ, in the ?" 
 
 "Oh! Harold. Don't let's talk about all that stuff. It's 
 bad enough to have to go to church all the time, without 
 talking about it when you're through with it." 
 
 "All right, if you'll permit one more remark on the 
 subject." 
 
 Asenath looked at him without replying, but her 
 expression indicated her consent, so he went on: 
 
 " I imagine that you're about as much of a Christian 
 as you are a Buddhist with the difference that you go 
 regularly to a Christian church. Isn't that so?" 
 
 " I guess so," she said laughing, "only I don't know 
 what a 'Bud' what did you call it?" 
 
 "A Buddhist."
 
 THE CHOICE 235 
 
 " What a Buddhist is. Only, let's talk about some- 
 thing else. How did you like the music? " 
 
 "The hymns?" 
 
 "No, the anthems/' 
 
 " They were fine and they were well done, too. Your 
 organist is a good musician." 
 
 "That's the part I love the music. But I hate the 
 hymns the way they're sung. Some of them are lovely, 
 too. Don't you love this one?" and she began to sing one 
 of the hymns that they had heard the congregation shout. 
 
 "Yes, it's fine. That's a theme by Haydn." 
 
 "Who was he?" 
 
 "A composer who lived about a hundred or more 
 years ago. You're very fond of music, aren't you?" 
 
 "I just love it." 
 
 "Do you ever go to any concerts?" 
 
 "At the church. And Oh! Jim took me to a concert 
 last year. It was wonderful. I wish I could play. But 
 we haven't any piano." 
 
 "Maybe you'll have one some day." 
 
 "I hope so," she said. 
 
 They walked in silence for a few minutes. Larned 
 was the first to speak: 
 
 "Tell me," he said, "why did you want me to go to 
 church with you this evening?" 
 
 "Oh! I don't know." 
 
 "You must have had some reason. You remember you 
 said you particularly wanted me to go."
 
 236 THE CHOICE 
 
 "I know, but" 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 "Father was very anxious to have me bring you." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "I don't know just why." 
 
 "You must have some idea." 
 
 Asenath was embarrassed and, as was quite usual, 
 took refuge in silence. Lamed waited for a reply and, 
 when he was assured none would come, said: 
 
 "Do you suppose he would like to convert me?" 
 
 This was too pointed a question for Asenath to 
 answer equivocally. She knew that that was exactly 
 what her father hoped for and she did not want to 
 admit it. She could think of no way of evading it, 
 however. 
 
 "I guess so," she said. 
 
 "Do you want to convert me?" 
 
 "No, but you know " and she paused. 
 
 "Why don't you come out with it? I won't mind." 
 
 "You see you're a Unitarian " 
 
 "No, I'm not." 
 
 "Why you said you were." 
 
 "No, I said that the only church my family ever 
 attended was a Unitarian church. I don't go to any." 
 
 "Father would think that was even worse." 
 
 "What does it matter to him whether I go to church 
 or not?" 
 
 "He's just cranky about it."
 
 THECHOICE 237 
 
 "What difference does it make?" 
 
 "Please don't ask me." 
 
 "But I want to know." 
 
 "I told you when you first came he asked me all 
 about you." 
 
 "Isn't he satisfied yet?" 
 
 "Yes, but he's just crazy about going to church and 
 all that." 
 
 "I suppose then if I want to continue calling on 
 you I'll have to join your church. Is that it?" 
 
 Asenath was becoming frightened. She feared if 
 this subject were carried to the bitter end that she 
 might lose Larned's companionship, the finest thing 
 which had ever come into her life. She was desperate. 
 Oh! if she could only tell him what his friendship 
 meant to her. If she could only make him see that 
 nothing must come between them. But her tongue 
 was tied. She could not tell him. All she could say was: 
 
 "No. Don't mind him. I'll never bother you with 
 going to church again, never. Let's talk about some- 
 thing else." 
 
 "But I want to know whether or not your father 
 objects to my visiting you. Does he?" 
 
 Asenath felt that something must be done. So she 
 did the magnificent thing. She lied. 
 
 "No, he don't." 
 
 "Are you sure?" 
 
 "Yes."
 
 238 THE CHOICE 
 
 "All right then." 
 
 Asenath had not been compelled to make a complete 
 misstatement. McBride had not forbidden her to 
 receive Larned. That would have been final as far as 
 his coming to the house was concerned. What he had 
 done, however, had been to speak of the matter several 
 times to his wife, who had repeated his words to 
 Asenath and had advised her to induce Larned to go 
 to church with them from time to time. Mrs. McBride 
 feared that unless this were done McBride would make 
 Larned 's further visits impossible. There was no half 
 way with McBride in church matters. 
 
 After Larned had gone, making their usual appoint- 
 ment for the following Tuesday, Asenath resolved that 
 she would not brook opposition in this matter were it 
 offered. She would fight to the last. 
 
 Larned was much amused by McBride's attitude. 
 He set it down to mere narrow-mindedness. He won- 
 dered how so lovely a girl, one with so many possibilities, 
 with so much grace and charm, could ever have been 
 born into such a family.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE reason for Larned's selection of Tuesday 
 evening for his visits to Asenath was not mere 
 accident. He had chosen it because it was one of 
 the few evenings in the week which he had open. 
 Every Monday and Thursday evening he devoted to 
 teaching English in a night school for immigrants. The 
 work was purely voluntary and it made a strong appeal 
 to Larned because he believed that there was no surer 
 method for the prompt development of an American 
 civic spirit in these people than teaching them the 
 language of the country. 
 
 Larned had not been entirely wrong in his first choice 
 of a profession. He was naturally a teacher, but the 
 teaching methods prescribed in the high school ran 
 counter to his ideas. He felt that he could not do good 
 work within the strict limitations which were imposed 
 upon him by the authorities and he had therefore 
 resigned. 
 
 But he really loved teaching, and, in this night 
 school, he found work which suited him exactly. He 
 was allowed to make his own rules and had the satisfac- 
 tion of seeing his work prosper. 
 
 He had spoken about his teaching to Asenath. She 
 was interested principally because it was Larned who 
 was doing the work. But she had no interest whatever 
 
 239
 
 240 THE CHOICE 
 
 in immigrants. To her, the word had only a disagreeable 
 connotation. Foreigners were dirty, unkempt, un- 
 desirable; they seemed a lower order, something to 
 be avoided as one avoided vermin. However, as her 
 friendship with Lamed grew and her understanding 
 of life generally underwent some improvement, she 
 gradually came to have a more sympathetic interest in 
 the work that Lamed was doing and actually began 
 to take some little pride in his altruism. 
 
 One evening in April, when their friendship had come 
 to be a settled thing, he suggested to her that she take 
 a class of very young girls, factory workers, and teach 
 them. 
 
 "What! Me!" she cried in surprise. 
 
 "Yes. Why not?" 
 
 "But I couldn't teach anything." 
 
 "You could teach sewing, couldn't you?" 
 
 "No, I wouldn't know how to start." 
 
 "Suppose I asked you to explain how this dress was 
 made you could tell me, couldn't you?" 
 
 "Of course I could." 
 
 "Well, if you could teach me, why couldn't you 
 teach some girls who would naturally be quicker to 
 understand sewing than I would?" 
 
 "I couldn't do it." 
 
 "But you ought to do it. You don't make any special 
 use of your time. Besides, it would only be one evening a 
 week."
 
 THE CHOICE 241 
 
 "Please don't ask me. I can't do it." 
 
 Lamed was becoming rather angry. He controlled 
 himself, however, and said, without any evidence of 
 his feeling except a slight quickening of his speech: 
 
 "But you haven't given me any reason." 
 
 "Please don't ask me," she said again. She was 
 becoming excited, confused, hurt. The thing seemed 
 monstrous to her. She would have willingly assented 
 to almost anything that Larned might ask. She would 
 have agreed, in advance and in perfect good faith, to 
 do anything he wished, but this thing was impossible. 
 She felt miserable, ignoble, unworthy, but what he 
 asked her she felt she could not do. It was like asking 
 her to cry out blasphemy in the middle of the church 
 service. 
 
 Larned caught the expression of helpless misery 
 which she wore and desisted from pressing her. But he 
 was angry. He felt as though he had been rebuffed. He 
 was ready to call her selfish, self-centred, what not. 
 He sat in silence after her last appeal, too angry to 
 speak for fear that he might say something which he 
 would afterward regret. Asenath was silent, too. She 
 would have given anything for the ability to explain 
 herself, but it was beyond her. 
 
 After as much as one minute it seemed much 
 longer Larned got up and walked over and looked at 
 a picture of an ancient McBride, a "Crayon portrait," 
 as such retouched, photographic enlargements are
 
 THE CHOICE 
 
 called. He wanted to go away, and, at the same time, 
 he was not willing to do so childish a thing. Since he 
 had decided that he would not go away angry, and he 
 was still too much perturbed to permit himself to speak, 
 he gazed at the ancient McBride and wondered what 
 aesthetic consideration could ever have moved men 
 to wear chin beards with the upper lip shaven. 
 
 Asenath watched him in anguish. She was convinced 
 that he must hold her in contempt; that she had surely 
 lost his friendship. She waited as a guilty criminal about 
 to have sentence passed upon her. If she could only 
 explain why she could not do as he wished. If the 
 words would but come. But they would not. At length, 
 she found the silence intolerable and, getting up, she 
 walked over to him, put her hand lightly on his arm, 
 and said: 
 
 "I guess you hate me, don't you?" 
 
 Her touch, light as it was, was magically potent, but 
 the plaintive misery in her voice was even more so. 
 Suddenly, Larned understood, and turning to her 
 quickly, laid his hand on hers, and said: 
 
 "Hate you? I should say not. I was in the wrong, not 
 you. Will you forgive me?" 
 
 "Forgive you? For what?" 
 
 "For getting angry. I was a fool." 
 
 "Don't say that, Harold, please," and then the words 
 came. "I know I'm only a horrid, selfish thing. I know 
 I ought to try to do a little for those poor people when
 
 THE CHOICE 243 
 
 you do so much. But I can't, I just can't " and, with- 
 drawing her hand from his, she threw herself in a chair 
 and gave herself up to tears. 
 
 Larned was extremely uncomfortable. Like practically 
 every other man, the sight of women's tears moved 
 him strongly. He felt that he must have been cruelly 
 unreasonable to have occasioned such grief as this. He 
 was filled with a great desire to assuage it, but scarcely 
 knew how to begin. 
 
 Fearfully ashamed, Asenath was gradually regaining 
 control of herself. What would he think of her? Not 
 only was she selfish, disobliging, incompetent, but a 
 miserable cry-baby as well. It was probably all over 
 between them, and it served her right. She was un- 
 worthy. 
 
 Larned watched her without speaking until she 
 began to dry her eyes. Then he thought he might trust 
 himself to speak without much risk of producing 
 another outburst. 
 
 "Asenath," he said, "please forget all about it. I 
 was all wrong, insisting like that. Please put it out of 
 your mind." 
 
 "Oh! Harold," she said, "what must you think of 
 me? The first thing you ever asked of me, and then 
 something I ought to be glad to do, and I refuse, just 
 because I know I can't do it, because I'm too dumb 
 stupid, I mean " she stopped, utterly at a loss to find 
 words sufficiently condemnatory.
 
 244 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Please, Asenath," he protested, "don't say another 
 word on that subject. Let's go out for a walk." 
 
 "Harold," she went on, much excited and scarcely 
 heeding his words, "I thought that there wasn't any- 
 thing that I couldn't do if you wanted me to do it. 
 Why, I thought that just because you would want me 
 to do it would make me able to do it. Since you've 
 been coming to see me, I've thought I was a different 
 girl all the way through, and now " 
 
 Lamed took her by the arm, and, almost lifting her 
 from the chair, led her to the door. 
 
 "Go get your hat and coat, we're going for a walk. 
 Not another word," and he raised his finger in a mock- 
 dictatorial manner. 
 
 Asenath did as she was bid. When they were on the 
 street, Larned said : 
 
 "Now, I want you to listen to me. Not everybody 
 can do everything. You know that. Everybody should 
 know it. I know now that what I proposed is one of 
 those things that runs counter to something in your 
 personality, something over which you really have no 
 control. Now, where I made an ass of myself was that 
 I did not see this at first. You made it perfectly plain, 
 I can see that now. I was wrong and you'll have to 
 admit it and, what's more, you'll have to promise not 
 to say one more word on the subject except that you 
 forgive me." 
 
 Larned 's words and tone completely reassured Asen-
 
 T H E C H O I C E 245 
 
 ath and she smiled in grateful appreciation as she said: 
 
 "I believe I'd forgive you anything, but there's 
 nothing to forgive." 
 
 "That isn't exactly what I meant, but we'll let it 
 pass." 
 
 They talked of other things, and then Lamed took 
 her home. He did not go in, but bade her good-night a 
 few minutes after they had reached her door. 
 
 He walked home a prey to most unusual emotion. 
 He was sure now that Asenath not only liked him very 
 much, of that he had been in no doubt for quite some 
 time, but it was perfectly plain that she was completely 
 devoted to him, if not actually in love. What amazed 
 him beyond measure was that he exulted in it, was 
 proud and happy. Could it be that he was in love with 
 her? It would seem so, but this was so very different 
 from anything he had ever imagined that it must be 
 impossible. He knew, had known for many weeks, 
 that she charmed him, fascinated him; he knew that 
 she was increasingly present in his thoughts; that he 
 looked forward to his weekly visits with the liveliest 
 expectation. But was this enough? It couldn't be. 
 There were too many things which claimed him, too 
 many subjects in which he took an active interest, for 
 him to believe that he was in love. To be in love meant 
 complete absorption in the loved one, and that was 
 certainly not his case. He was very fond of her, there 
 was no doubt, and maybe this very fondness prompted
 
 246 THECHOICE 
 
 him to overestimate her liking for him. At any rate, 
 it wouldn't do to judge too hastily, and certainly not 
 when she was so much agitated as she was tonight. 
 
 If he thought that she was really falling in love with 
 him, he argued, it would be his duty to take steps to 
 see that it went no further. It would never do to lead 
 her on, or even permit her to go on, in view of the state 
 of his own feelings. At all events, he would observe 
 her closely in future and at the first definite sign, he 
 would take such steps as seemed to him suitable under 
 the circumstances. 
 
 But he could not down a certain feeling of satisfac- 
 tion that she had shown so much dependence upon 
 him, that she owned so lively a desire to please him. 
 He had noted, not without considerable pride, the 
 improvement in her speech, the widening of her knowl- 
 edge. He felt that it would be a great pity to leave 
 her where she now stood, just when she. was about to 
 be able to make use of her mind. He was sure that the 
 quality of her mentality was excellent; it lacked only 
 training. And the missionary in him, and who is entirely 
 without this quality, burned with the desire to com- 
 plete his work, to help fit her for the position in life 
 which her tastes and aptitudes undoubtedly fitted her. 
 It would be a crime to allow so fair a flower to be 
 stunted for lack of the necessary attention.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 DURING the summer, their weekly meetings 
 were continued with occasional interruptions. 
 Larned had been on the lookout, on his first 
 visit after that in which Asenath had shown so much 
 agitation, for any symptom which might confirm his 
 temporary suspicion that she was falling in love with 
 him, but saw none. Asenath was gay, cheerful, and quite 
 mistress of herself. She was perfectly satisfied to go on 
 like this forever. She wanted him as her friend, her 
 mentor. It was sufficient joy to be with him once a week. 
 It was true that he was in her mind constantly; she did 
 nothing, thought of nothing that did not take him into 
 account. "What would he think of this?" and "Would 
 he approve of that?" were questions which, while she 
 never formally proposed them to herself, were still 
 always present in her consciousness. 
 
 She had no desire to go out. She made no effort to 
 make new acquaintances or to improve the few she had. 
 She saw Susan regularly at the telephone exchange, they 
 still took their lunch together, but there was no longer 
 the same degree of intimacy between them. In the first 
 place, Susan had now become a regular member of 
 May Wilson's "gang," and all of her leisure was occu- 
 pied in various enterprises of a social nature which these 
 young folks were constantly arranging and putting into 
 
 247
 
 248 THE CHOICE 
 
 execution, and, in the second place, Asenath had never 
 felt willing to confide in her any further details of her 
 friendship for Larned since Susan had intimated that he 
 might be Rawlings' successor. Asenath could not have 
 explained her reason for this feeling. As a matter of fact, 
 she did not actually have any reason for it; she simply 
 did not want to do it. And with Asenath, as has been 
 observed, when she did not want to talk, she knew very 
 well how to keep silent. 
 
 She was going to her uncle's farm for the one week 
 of her vacation. She asked Susan to accompany her, but 
 that enterprising young woman had made other 
 arrangements and declined. Asenath was very glad that 
 the week she was in the country fell within the two weeks 
 that Larned would be away. 
 
 When Larned took leave of her on the evening of his 
 last visit before his vacation, he had it on the tip of his 
 tongue to ask her to write to him. He would have liked 
 to have a letter from her, but he was mindful of his 
 resolution to keep their friendship a friendship and no 
 more. So he said nothing. 
 
 He felt some regret in the prospect of not seeing her 
 for three weeks. To hide it, he affected more than his 
 usual gaiety and this prevented him from observing the 
 same emotion in Asenath. Besides, she was not accus- 
 tomed to wearing her heart on her sleeve, as the saying 
 goes. She did not respond to his humorous sallies with 
 quite her usual appreciation, and he might have noticed
 
 THECHOICE 249 
 
 this and coupled it with a sense of regret on her part 
 similar to his own had he not been so bent upon con- 
 cealing it. 
 
 It was a sultry evening in early August, much too 
 hot to make even the thought of any exercise bearable. 
 So they sat on the doorstep and chatted about their 
 coming vacations. Asenath had not much to say about 
 her uncle's farm. It was an old story with her, and she 
 looked forward to her visit with no pleasure except the 
 prospect of escape from the heat of the city. Besides, 
 Larned had been there and he knew about it. The one 
 spot that meant anything to her she forbore mention- 
 ing, the brook at the side of which they had had their 
 first merry talk. 
 
 Larned was going to the mountains where his parents 
 were spending the month of August. He was enthusias- 
 tic at the prospect of spending two idle weeks in his 
 father's company. 
 
 "You ought to know the 'old boy,' " as he called him 
 affectionately; "he's the dearest fellow I ever met. 
 We're just two pals together. Not a bit like father and 
 son. It's much more like two friends of the same age. 
 He's interested in everything I do. We read the same 
 books and discuss them. We don't always agree, but in 
 the main I think we do. You must meet him some day." 
 
 " Do you think he'd like me? " asked Asenath. She was 
 willing to take Larned senior on faith. He was Harold's 
 father. That was enough.
 
 250 THE CHOICE 
 
 "I'm sure he would. In the first place, he's got a pair 
 of eyes in his head, and if I told him you were a pretty 
 fair looker, he would use those eyes so that he could see 
 in you what I told him was there." 
 
 "What are looks good for, anyway?" asked Asenath. 
 
 "That depends. In your case they might mean much 
 or little. Now if you were a good-looking girl instead of 
 a homely one, I could tell you without hurting your 
 feelings, but as it is, delicacy compels silence. What do 
 you think?" 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 "About looks. Do you think they're good for any- 
 thing?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "I do. But I won't tell you." 
 
 "Please, Harold, tell me." 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Please." 
 
 " You want me to tell you that you're beautiful, don't 
 you?" 
 
 "No, I don't. 
 
 "You'd be insulted if I told you, wouldn't you?" 
 
 "Don't be crazy." 
 
 "Yes, I will and I'm going to insult you. You are 
 beautiful. I told you that the first time I ever saw you 
 and I stick to it. They may shoot me at sunrise, but I'll 
 stick to it." 
 
 This was delicious. Not merely the humor, which
 
 THE CHOICE 251 
 
 Asenath thought wonderful, but the homage to her 
 beauty. 
 
 Asenath did not reply to his compliment. She was 
 always delighted to hear from him that she was beauti- 
 ful; it gave her a sense of comfort; she felt like a cat who 
 is enjoying the heat of a grate-fire in winter. She would 
 have indulged in the human equivalent of purring if 
 there were such a thing. Larned had told her this a num- 
 ber of times, and always she felt that she ought to make 
 some denial, if only partial, but she never did. And he 
 liked her the better for it. He would have taken it as 
 affectation, and affectation in any form he despised. 
 
 "Oh! Isn't it hot!" said Asenath. "I always think I 
 like summer until August, and then I hate it until 
 winter comes again." 
 
 "It is hot," he answered, "but I don't mind it much. 
 I like summer because I dislike overcoats and rubbers." 
 
 " I like it for one thing, I don't have to go to church." 
 
 This brought up an unpleasant memory for Asenath. 
 There had been some more talk on this subject by 
 McBride. He had been disappointed because Larned 
 had not made any remark to him after his attendance at 
 the Sunday evening service. McBride could not under- 
 stand how anyone could come to their church and not 
 be edified. He had said to his wife that unless Larned 
 showed some interest in church-going, not necessarily 
 to their church, he would see to it that his visits to 
 Asenath should cease. He was not going to have his
 
 252 THECHOICE 
 
 daughter associated with a godless young man, no mat- 
 ter who his father might be. Mrs. McBride had repeated 
 this to Asenath, who, for a moment, was much disturbed 
 by it. She made no answer, however, and, remembering 
 that the summer season was at hand, in which church 
 activity was at a minimum, put the matter out of her 
 mind as of no immediate importance. In practice, 
 Asenath never crossed a bridge before she came to it. 
 Larned laughed at her remark and said: 
 "I thought you didn't mind going to church." 
 " I didn't mind it much before, but I hate it now." 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh! I don't know. I just don't like to go." 
 "Well, talking of going, I guess it's time for me to 
 move along. It's after ten." 
 
 He got up and looked about him. On nearly every 
 doorstep he saw groups of people kept outdoors by the 
 heat. He saw them with his eyes only, his mind was on 
 the coming separation. He hated to leave her. In her 
 presence he always felt serenely happy. She seemed to 
 fit into his every mood. It was never necessary for him 
 consciously to entertain her. He would not have been 
 able to explain satisfactorily why leaving her for so short 
 a period as three weeks should bring to him so active a 
 sense of regret. He had never had any such emotion 
 before. Perhaps it was just the heat, after all, which took 
 all the energy out of him and left him a prey to all sorts 
 of foolish ideas. That must be it. And he mentally pulled
 
 THE CHOICE 253 
 
 himself together and, in the most matter-of-fact manner 
 imaginable, said: 
 
 "Well, Asenath, I hope you enjoy your visit to the 
 country." 
 
 "Don't worry," she answered, "I won't." 
 
 "Maybe you will, after all. Good-bye," and he held 
 out his hand. 
 
 "Good-bye," she said. Never had she felt like this. 
 It seemed almost like the end of everything for her. 
 Three weeks without seeing him was an eternity. Oh, 
 if she could have held him, if she could let him know 
 how she would miss him; that, away from him, she had 
 no life at all, it was mere existence. But she said "good- 
 bye" simply, with only a slight wistfulness as the nearest 
 approach to an indication of her emotion. 
 
 The three weeks passed uneventfully for her. She 
 went to the country and found it, in the main, an agree- 
 able change. Her cousin was at home and the armed 
 truce which they had always maintained was broken by 
 only one or two little passages in the privacy of their 
 room. Outside of their common apartment, they avoided 
 each other as much as was compatible with the mainte- 
 nance of peace in the family. There were some young 
 men of the neighborhood, friends of her cousin, who 
 came to call, but she found them almost unbearable. 
 She measured them by Lamed 's standard and they suf- 
 fered violently by the comparison. They pronounced 
 her very dull and, in their company, she certainly was.
 
 254 THECHOICE 
 
 Every day she went alone to the brook with her sew- 
 ing or a book and spent as much of her time there as 
 she could. It seemed to her that she was nearer to 
 Lamed here. The impression that he had made on her 
 that first day was the most vivid thing in her memory. 
 She could see him now as he appeared then, with his good 
 looks, his animated expression, his jolly humor. Here, 
 she felt less removed from him; like most of us, she 
 clutched at the frame when the picture was gone. 
 
 Larned's vacation was an almost unalloyed delight to 
 him. He thought much of Asenath, more than he would 
 have believed possible. He often wanted to see her, but 
 it was a desire that he knew would soon be gratified, and, 
 instead of causing him regret, it gave him a most 
 pleasurable sense of anticipation. 
 
 He came back to the city on Sunday evening, and, on 
 Monday morning, he found himself hurrying to the office 
 so that he might be sure to arrive before Asenath. So 
 early was it when he came, that it was necessary to walk 
 up and down the block half a dozen times before he saw 
 her alight from the car. She was also early. 
 
 The calm of their greeting was utterly out of key with 
 their inward perturbation. Asenath had never been so 
 excited and he was surprised at the strength of his own 
 emotion. The touch of her hand electrified him, and for 
 the first time, he knew what she really meant to him. 
 But he did not philosophize over it, he simply rejoiced. 
 
 The few words they spoke were almost perfunctory.
 
 THE CHOICE 255 
 
 Neither of them needed speech to express an emotion 
 which completely controlled them. Neither of them felt 
 any necessity to communicate their feelings to each 
 other. To be together again was enough.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THEIR regular weekly meetings were resumed 
 and their friendship went on just as before. Both 
 of them were conscious that there was something 
 new in their relationship, a warmth of feeling greater 
 than before. But they were quite content to allow this 
 to remain unspoken, fearing almost that its avowal 
 would interfere with the serenity of their companion- 
 ship. 
 
 McBride waited, as he thought, patiently, for some 
 change in Larned's attitude towards church-going. He 
 had told his wife to inform Asenath of his desire in the 
 matter and expected that she would take suitable 
 action. Either Lamed was to identify himself with 
 some church or cease his visits. He was not accustomed 
 to announce his wishes with regard to the action of the 
 members of his family more than once and, con- 
 sequently, he waited for some sign of obedience. 
 
 None came, however, and about the middle of 
 October he took occasion to issue his ultimatum, this 
 time directly to Asenath at the supper table. It hap- 
 pened on a Thursday evening; he had come to a deter- 
 mination on the way home from prayer meeting the 
 evening before. 
 
 "Asenath," he said, "I haven't heard anything about 
 young Larned's going to church lately." 
 
 256
 
 THE CHOICE 257 
 
 She knew what was coming, and had determined to 
 fight it, but, when the moment came, her life-long 
 habit of non-opposition to her father prevailed and she 
 was silent. 
 
 Her silence was no surprise to him. He was given 
 to the same practice himself. Besides, he felt that there 
 was really no answer to be made, he had stated a fact 
 which required neither assent nor corroboration. He 
 went on, after what seemed to him a suitable pause: 
 
 "I don't want him coming here any more. I don't 
 want you to have anything to do with him." 
 
 Asenath was still silent, but inwardly she was in 
 revolt. She hated him. She hated herself for her pusilla- 
 nimity. To be compelled to sit there with her tongue 
 tied when the dearest thing in her life was being taken 
 from her. Oh! Why could she not assert herself? Why 
 was she powerless to tell him that she would not submit 
 to his tyranny. For the moment her hate of her father, 
 her rage, consumed her, she did not think of anything 
 else. She had no vivid sense of her loss or of the effect 
 on Lamed. All she sensed was hatred, she wanted to 
 hurt her father, she would have liked to tear him, injure 
 him physically. 
 
 But she sat at the table, dull, incapable. She could 
 not eat, she could not talk, she could not think. McBride 
 paid her no further attention. He had given his orders 
 and that ended the matter. He went on with his supper, 
 his conscience at ease because of his virtuous action.
 
 258 THE CHOICE 
 
 It made no difference to him whether Asenath ate or 
 not. That was her affair. When she came to her senses, 
 as she was bound to do soon, she would eat if she were 
 hungry. He did not notice her silence. He was used to 
 that, he had not expected her to answer him. In fact, 
 in his opinion, there was no answer to make. He did 
 not require verbal acquiescence, he looked for obedience 
 only, and he made no doubt that it would be forth- 
 coming. 
 
 Mrs. McBride, however, accustomed as she was to 
 accept his least word as final, was in a state of great 
 excitement. She knew what a blow this would be to 
 Asenath, and the maternal instinct in her filled her 
 with pity, with a keen desire to lessen the violence of 
 her pain. But the habit of years was strong upon her 
 and she too sat silent, impatiently awaiting the end 
 of the meal, so that she might talk to Asenath privately 
 to give her the relief that speech would bring. 
 
 As soon as the meal was over, however, Asenath went 
 to her room, without making any apology for not 
 helping her mother to clear up. Mrs. McBride made 
 no comment. She went about her work silently, in the 
 greatest misery. She did not know what to do; whether 
 to go to her as soon as she was through, in order to 
 give her what comfort she could, or to await her re- 
 appearance. Perhaps it might be better for Asenath to 
 work out her own salvation, perhaps she would rather 
 be alone.
 
 THE CHOICE 259 
 
 But she could not wait. When her work was finished, 
 she went to Asenath's room. She expected to find her 
 in tears, in lively distress, but instead she found her 
 sitting in her chair, dry-eyed, wearing an expression 
 she had never seen before. Asenath was still in the 
 spirit which had mastered her while at the table. She 
 was filled with a dull, implacable desire for revenge, 
 and the recognition of her powerlessness merely intensi- 
 fied it. She gave no sign that she was aware of her 
 mother's entrance, but sat still in her chair gazing at 
 vacancy. Mrs. McBride wanted to be sympathetic. 
 
 "Don't take it so hard," she said. 
 
 "Don't talk to me," answered Asenath almost fiercely. 
 
 "I'm so sorry," said her mother, disregarding Asen- 
 ath's remark, "I did everything I could, but you know 
 your father. When he 
 
 "Yes, I know him and I hate him," said Asenath with 
 vehemence. "I won't live in the same house with him. 
 I'll run away and he can have his dirty old church all 
 to himself." 
 
 With speech the tears came and, almost instantly, 
 she was in a paroxysm of weeping. Mrs. McBride came 
 over to her and put her arms about her. She did not 
 resent Asenath's words in the least. She knew that she 
 must have some outlet for her pent-up feelings, and, 
 after all, it made little difference what she said. She 
 was certain that, in the end, Asenath would do exactly 
 what her father had ordered.
 
 260 THECHOICE 
 
 After a while Asenath regained sufficient composure 
 to permit speech. Punctuated by sobs, which she made 
 no effort to control, she said: 
 
 "Oh! How can I ever tell him? What will he think 
 of me? He won't want to have anything more to do 
 with any of us." 
 
 "There, there," said Mrs. McBride with the idea of 
 consoling her, "everything will come out all right." 
 
 "All right," cried Asenath, "all right! What's he to 
 you? What do you care? All you know is just to do 
 everything that that old " She paused. No epithet 
 could she find in her vocabulary which was sufficiently 
 strong to apply to her father. 
 
 "Oh! Assy," said Mrs. McBride. "What way is that 
 to talk. I'm sure Mr. Larned is a very nice young man, 
 but he ain't the only one in the world." 
 
 "He's the only one in the world I want. I love him. 
 I'd do anything for him. I'd go in rags for him, I'd " 
 
 This was a new phase. Mrs. McBride had not sus- 
 pected anything of the sort. She knew that Asenath 
 must be very fond of him, but she had no idea that her 
 affection was as strong as this. She did not know what 
 to say and silently stroked Asenath's hair, wondering 
 if it might not be possible to do something to alter 
 McBride's edict. But no, that was impossible. 
 
 "How can I ever tell him?" asked Asenath between 
 fresh sobs. "What will he think of me? How can he 
 expect that I'm any better than the rest of us? Oh! I
 
 THE CHOICE 261 
 
 wish I was dead!" and she was seized with a new 
 paroxysm. 
 
 And so it continued for over an hour. Finally, when 
 she was calmer outwardly, Mrs. McBride left her and 
 went to bed. But she did not sleep. Instead she thought 
 in her vague, uncertain way of what had happened, quite 
 oblivious of her husband's sound but sonorous slumber. 
 
 Nor did Asenath sleep. When her mother left her, 
 mechanically she undressed and went to bed, and lay 
 there open-eyed, appraising the calamity which had 
 befallen her. For it was a calamity to her. Larned was 
 her all. Now that it seemed that she must lose him, 
 she was conscious of the fact that, almost from the 
 beginning of his vists, he was her sole interest. She felt 
 she could not face life without him, and, on the other 
 hand, she did not see what she possibly could do to 
 retain him. That he would cease his visits, and also 
 cease to see her, she had no doubt. As soon as he heard 
 McBride's edict, he would accept it in the spirit as 
 well as the letter. Asenath was sure that he would 
 never lend himself to meeting her surreptitiously. She 
 knew he liked her, was very fond of her, in fact, but 
 she did not dream that there was any possibility that 
 he might return her ardent affection. To begin with, 
 he was so immensely her superior in every way, intel- 
 lectually above all; she felt him to be actually brilliant, 
 and, besides, he was rich, his social position was estab- 
 lished and he had ample interests.
 
 262 THE CHOICE 
 
 He would be sorry, of course. She knew that he 
 enjoyed their association keenly, she knew that he 
 admired her in a way, her good looks for one thing. 
 But he couldn't be in love with her as she with him. 
 She believed that there was no sacrifice which she 
 would not make willingly for his sake, but she did not 
 think he felt so towards her. 
 
 At all events, he must be told. But how? She thought 
 of writing to him, and, lying in bed, she endeavored to 
 compose a satisfactory note, only to find that she 
 could not do it. Then she determined to set out early 
 the next morning in order to meet him as he reached 
 the telephone building. She made a great effort to fix 
 on some phrase with which to break the news without 
 showing too plainly her great distress, but she could 
 not do this either. Finally, she determined to await the 
 event. And, having done this, she felt more composed, 
 and eventually fell asleep as a clock in the neighbor- 
 hood struck two. 
 
 On that morning, however, Larned was detained and 
 did not reach the office until quite some time after his 
 usual hour. Asenath had waited until the last moment 
 and then gave up hope of seeing him until the next 
 morning. But, while she was at her work, her trouble 
 returned to her with such force and her desire to see 
 him became so intense, that she resolved to telephone 
 to him in his office if she could. 
 
 Pretexting the necessity of sending a message of
 
 THE CHOICE 263 
 
 great importance, she had herself excused and called 
 him on the telephone. She got her connection imme- 
 diately. She was in a state of great excitement the 
 instant she recognized his voice and knew that she 
 could not telephone her message. Controlling herself 
 as best she could, she said : 
 
 "This is Asenath. Can you see me at lunch time?" 
 
 "Sure," he answered. "What's the matter?" 
 
 "I can't tell you over the 'phone. Where will you 
 meet me?" 
 
 "What time are you off?" 
 
 "Twelve o'clock." 
 
 "All right. Meet me at the corner in front of the 
 drug store at five minutes after twelve." 
 
 "Five after twelve. All right." And she hung up. 
 
 Lamed could not imagine what she could possibly 
 have to say to him of sufficient importance to brook 
 no delay. He had noticed that she seemed agitated, and 
 he knew her well enough by now to recognize that 
 agitation of any kind was most unusual with her. 
 Serenity was one of her qualities which appealed to 
 him strongly. He gave up, as quite useless, any specula- 
 tion as to her news, but could not get it altogether out 
 of his mind. He was quite uncomfortable about it, 
 although he called himself a fool for worrying without 
 real cause. 
 
 Promptly at twelve o'clock he left the office and 
 reached the corner before she did. She was only a minute
 
 264 THE CHOICE 
 
 behind him, and, as he saw her approach, he recognized 
 in her serious expression that whatever her news might 
 be, it was something of the utmost importance to her. 
 
 "Have you had your lunch?" he asked her as she 
 came up. 
 
 "No, but I don't want any." 
 
 " If you want to talk to me, it might as well be over 
 the table. How long do you have? " 
 
 "Three-quarters of an hour." 
 
 "That's plenty. We'll go into that restaurant over 
 there; upstairs where it's fairly quiet." 
 
 They crossed the street and entered the restaurant. 
 When they were seated and Larned had given an order, 
 he said: 
 
 "Now, what is it?" 
 
 "Oh! Harold. I don't know how to tell you. Father 
 won't let you come to see me any more." 
 
 "What's that?" he asked, utterly dumbfounded. 
 
 "Last night at supper, he said that you weren't to 
 come to see me and I wasn't to see you at all." 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 "Because you aren't a church member. Oh! I'm so 
 ashamed." 
 
 "This is serious," he said. And it was. He knew now 
 how much she meant to him; in fact, he had known it 
 ever since his return from the mountains. But he had 
 been hugging the delusion that there was no use in 
 being precipitate, their relationship had been ideal and
 
 THE CHOICE 265 
 
 he wanted it to go on undisturbed, thinking that the 
 test of time could not, by any possibility, be to their 
 disadvantage. 
 
 Asenath was quick to feel his dejection and her heart 
 leapt within her. He did care for her, she thought, and 
 she was comforted. He would find a way. 
 
 "Tell me all about it," he said. "Had you any idea 
 any such thing was impending?" 
 
 She told him the whole story, the little there was of it. 
 When she had finished, he said nothing but thought deeply. 
 
 "Asenath," he said at length, "I want some time to 
 think this over. I guess I don't have to tell you that I 
 don't want to give up our friendship. Indeed, I won't 
 give it up. But I must have some time to think it over. 
 I'll find a way, somehow or other. Trust me and don't 
 let it bother you." 
 
 She drank in his words as a balm. His manner, more 
 than his words, assured her that her fear that he would 
 accept her father's edict was groundless. She was almost 
 happy now. She was sure of him. Instinctively, she 
 knew that he loved her, and, with that knowledge, she 
 was content, she could await the final event with perfect 
 composure. 
 
 "I'd trust you with anything," she said. 
 
 "Let's forget all about it for the present," he said. 
 "Let's act as though nothing had happened. Meet me 
 tomorrow same place, same time, and maybe I'll have 
 something to say."
 
 266 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Yes," she said. 
 
 "In the meantime," he resumed, in a jocular vein, 
 somewhat forced, "I suppose I had better get a cate- 
 chism and prepare myself for a religious life. What sect 
 would you propose for me?" 
 
 "How can you joke about it?" she asked seriously. 
 
 "Why not?" he retorted. "I'm glad that I can joke 
 about it. When you can see the fun in anything, there's 
 still hope. How do you think I'd make out as a Baptist? " 
 
 "Oh! Harold!" was all she could say. 
 
 "The Quakers are a pretty good crowd," he resumed, 
 "only I'm afraid the spirit would move me once too often 
 in meeting and I might be put out." 
 
 After a while she fell into his spirit and was almost 
 gay. It was always thus with him. His good humor was 
 infectious and she was utterly without immunity. 
 
 When she left him, she was happy, serene. She had 
 implicit confidence that he would find a way out of their 
 difficulty.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 E NED'S flippancy had been put on. He wanted 
 time to think over the serious problem which 
 confronted him. He knew he loved this girl and 
 that he wanted to marry her. But he had not been sure 
 enough of himself, he did not want to "Marry in haste 
 to repent at leisure," he had wished to test her attrac- 
 tion for him thoroughly before they were committed. 
 In all of their association, neither of them had ever, by 
 any word or act, suggested that theirs was anything but 
 a platonic friendship. 
 
 What was he to do? It was impossible to discuss the 
 subject with McBride, if for no other reason than the 
 maintenance of a decent pride. He was unwilling even 
 to suggest to Asenath that they meet outside of her 
 home. It was either all or nothing. If she were willing, 
 they might be married without her parents' consent. 
 That was easy; one hour could carry them into the 
 neighboring State where there was a veritable Gretna 
 Green, and, after that, the McBrides could suit them- 
 selves. Or they might wait for a few months and see 
 how they felt then. But even as he thought of this alter- 
 native, he knew that he could not wait; he must see her, 
 he must be with her. 
 
 He took the rest of the afternoon off and went into the 
 country for a long tramp. He could always think better 
 
 267
 
 268 THE CHOICE 
 
 when he was afoot, and this was no exception. The day 
 was fair, the air cool and bracing and the country in its 
 autumn garb was most lovely. He had walked for less 
 than an hour when his mind was made up. If Asenath 
 were willing, they would be married immediately. There 
 was only one condition which he made with himself, he 
 would talk it over first with his parents. He wanted 
 them to know and approve. Of the latter he had no 
 doubt whatever, for many experiences had proven that 
 they would not interfere with any project of his to which 
 he had given careful consideration. Advice might be 
 offered, but opposition never. 
 
 That evening, after dinner, he told them the whole 
 story in detail. He had spoken of Asenath to them 
 before, but had never intimated, even in the slightest 
 way, that she had any strong hold on his affection. 
 They had been much interested in his descriptions of 
 the McBride household, in his course of reading for 
 Asenath, and had looked upon it as just another mani- 
 festation of his teaching instinct. They listened gravely 
 to his recital, showing little of the surprise they felt, 
 and, when he had finished, with the statement that he 
 was about to propose marriage without the knowledge 
 of Asenath's parents, they were both silent. 
 After a little while, Larned senior spoke: 
 " Harold, what you propose is a very serious matter, 
 one in which I am afraid I cannot advise you. If you 
 have given the question all of the consideration it
 
 THECHOICE 269 
 
 deserves; if you are sure that this girl will make you 
 happy; if you are sure you can make her happy, I've 
 nothing to say. It's your life which is at stake, your 
 happiness. This is one of the things which every man 
 must decide for himself. Nobody can decide for him. 
 I would rather you had waited a little longer before 
 reaching a decision, but even that is your own problem." 
 
 " I knew you'd feel that v/ay, father," said Harold. 
 "How do you feel about it, mother?" 
 
 "You know how I feel, my dear," she answered. 
 "Your wife, whoever she is, will be my daughter as long 
 as she wants to be. I hope you have chosen wisely both 
 for yourself and her." She was much affected, and there 
 were tears in her eyes, but she smiled brightly at him. 
 For answer, he kissed her. 
 
 They discussed the details of Harold's contemplated 
 action, based, of course, upon Asenath's acquiescence. It 
 was arranged that immediately after the marriage they 
 were to come to Larneds' and make their home there 
 until such time as they should desire to set up an estab- 
 lishment of their own. 
 
 Promptly at noon the next day Lamed was at the 
 corner waiting for Asenath. His whole morning had 
 been idle, for he could not work. His mind was made up 
 and he literally burned to learn Asenath's decision. 
 Although, in the main, he had no doubt that she would 
 do as he wished, he had had no word from her which 
 justified him in this belief and, occasionally, he found
 
 270 THECHOICE 
 
 himself wondering if, after all, her long-established habit 
 of obedience to her father might not make her hesitate 
 to take this final step. 
 
 But when he saw her approach, the look in her eyes 
 convinced him that there was no basis for even the 
 shadow of a doubt. 
 
 He greeted her warmly, and then: 
 
 "Are you hungry? " he asked. " Do you want to eat? " 
 
 "No," she answered, "why?" 
 
 " I don't think I could talk to you as I want to in a 
 restaurant. Let's walk." 
 
 "Very well," she answered, and fell into step beside 
 him. He searched his mind for a moment for a suitable 
 beginning, and, finding none, plunged in without further 
 thought. 
 
 "Asenath," he said, "I love you; I'm sure you know 
 it, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered with great earnestness, "and I 
 love you; I can't tell you how much. If I loved you before 
 night before last, I more than love you now. You're 
 simply everything to me." 
 
 There was no doubting her utter sincerity. Her great 
 love for him had given her speech. He was much moved. 
 
 "I've loved you for quite a long time," he said, "but 
 I wanted to make sure. I wanted to know, beyond the 
 slightest doubt, that my love was fixed, final. I wanted 
 to wait, to go on as we were until there could be no 
 possible chance of making a mistake. But your father's
 
 THE CHOICE 271 
 
 action has shown me that there is no doubt, and, 
 further, that I cannot wait. Asenath, will you marry 
 me?" 
 
 "Yes," she said. 
 
 "Will you marry me now today?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Very well. There's a train at one o'clock that will 
 get us to Berryville, that's right across the state line, at 
 a little before two. We can go to a minister or a justice 
 of the peace, be married, and catch the 3.15 train home. 
 We'll go to my house, my father and mother know all 
 about it and will be happy to receive you as their 
 daughter. We'll send word to your father that we're 
 married and where we are. That will put the next move 
 up to him. Are you willing?" 
 
 And again Asenath said "yes." 
 
 At half past four Mr. and Mrs. Harold Prentis 
 Lamed entered the Lamed house. Harold had tele- 
 phoned from the railway station that they had decided 
 and would be there at that time. So the senior Larneds 
 were waiting for them and the welcome that Asenath 
 received from her parents-in-law was so cordial, so 
 tactful that all of her doubts in their regard vanished. 
 She was much excited because, for the first time in her 
 life, she had disobeyed her father, and her fear of him 
 was great. All of Harold's assurances scarcely convinced 
 her that he might not have some power to undo what 
 they had done.
 
 272 THE CHOICE 
 
 Shortly after the greetings were over, Asenath wrote 
 the following note at Harold's dictation: 
 Dear Father: 
 
 I was married this afternoon to Harold 
 Larned. I know you will be shocked to learn 
 this and I am sorry that I have had to do what 
 I am sure will cause you disappointment. But 
 I had no alternative; between you and Harold, 
 I had to choose him. 
 
 I hope you will forgive me and believe me 
 to be as always 
 
 Your loving daughter, 
 
 Asenath. 
 
 We are staying at my father-in-law's house. 
 
 The letter had just been inserted in the envelope 
 when Asenath uttered an exclamation. 
 
 "What is it?" Harold asked. 
 
 "I wonder if I could put in something about my 
 things." 
 
 "Oh! I wouldn't. It's scarcely appropriate. I'll tell 
 you what I'll do. I'll deliver the letter myself and bring 
 back whatever you want. Will your mother know what 
 to send?" 
 
 "Yes, she'll know. I haven't got so much." 
 
 And so it was arranged. 
 
 Larned, in his impatience to return, called a taxi 
 from a neighboring garage and was soon ringing 
 McBrides' bell. 
 
 His unsuspecting mother-in-law opened the door
 
 THE CHOICE 273 
 
 almost immediately. She had been much concerned by 
 Asenath's failure to appear. Never once, since she had 
 been employed by the Telephone Company, had she 
 missed coming directly home unless she had previously 
 announced it. Today, when Asenath did not come in 
 time for lunch her mother imagined that she had been 
 detained in the exchange, but, as the afternoon wore 
 on without her coming or sending word, she became 
 nervous. Once during the long afternoon she was 
 reminded of Asenath's threat to run away, but instantly 
 put this idea to one side as inconceivable. 
 
 When she saw Larned standing on the step, she knew 
 instantly that he had come to bring her news of Asenath. 
 
 "Where's Asenath?" she cried. 
 
 "She's at our house," Larned answered with extra- 
 ordinary suavity, put on to cover the triumph he felt. 
 "Here's a letter from her for Mr. McBride." 
 
 "What's she doing there?" 
 
 "The letter will tell you." 
 
 Nervously, she invited him to come in and bade him 
 take a seat in the parlor while she ran upstairs to 
 deliver the letter. 
 
 A few minutes later, McBride appeared in the parlor 
 with the letter in his hand. His face was purple with 
 suppressed rage. 
 
 "I want you to get out of this house before I throw 
 you out," he said through his teeth. "Mother," he 
 said to his wife, "show him the door."
 
 274 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Good evening," said Larned as he left the room. As 
 he was about to leave the house, he suddenly remem- 
 bered that he was to bring some things for Asenath. 
 He stood in the doorway and mentioned it to Mrs. 
 McBride. She took the suitcase with which he had 
 provided himself and whispered to him to wait on the 
 step until she brought it to him. 
 
 It was fully five minutes before she returned. He 
 thanked her and was already halfway down the steps 
 when she whispered: 
 
 "Give her my love." 
 
 "All right. Thank you. Good-bye," he said. 
 
 As he opened the door of the cab, he took one last 
 look at the commonplace dwelling in which he had 
 spent so many delightful hours. To-day, it appeared 
 to him for the first time in its true color, and he gaily 
 reflected: "Why not, when she's no longer there." 
 
 He drove to a jeweler's shop and purchased a wedding 
 ring. He did not have it engraved, because he could 
 not be sure of the size. Then he drove home. 
 
 Asenath's pride in her ring was so manifest that all 
 the Larneds were delighted. She was so simple, so 
 ingenuous and withal so beautiful. Both of Harold's 
 parents were most favorably impressed by her and 
 were entirely ready to approve of Harold's decision 
 in this as in every other matter in which he had been 
 compelled to make a choice. 
 
 Asenath was entirely unaffected by what Harold
 
 THE CHOICE 275 
 
 told her of his reception by her father, but she was 
 touched by her mother's message. Quickly, however, 
 she forgot both of them in her new happiness. To be 
 Harold's wife, to have him take her in his strong arms, 
 to receive and return his kisses was heaven. 
 
 They were both too ecstatic to make any ordered 
 conversation possible. But there was no longer any 
 need to justify their being together. They belonged 
 together and physical contact was what their youth 
 cried for, and not for either wit or wisdom. 
 
 They were a merry party at dinner. Larned senior 
 produced a bottle of champagne, "The only one he 
 owned," he said, which he had been saving for some 
 "grand" occasion. In their excitement both Harold 
 and Asenath had forgotten that they had eaten no 
 lunch. 
 
 After dinner, the four of them continued their talk 
 at the table for about an hour. Then Harold proposed 
 a walk and Asenath eagerly agreed. 
 
 Hand and hand, and sometimes with his arm about 
 her waist, they walked in the starlit night. Too happy 
 to talk, they sensed each other's joy and were wonder- 
 fully content to be silent. Occasionally Harold would 
 make some remark to which Asenath would return a 
 monosyllabic reply, but that was all. 
 
 They were conscious of nothing but each other. They 
 were supremely happy.
 
 PART FOUR 
 
 ASENATH 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 SUNDAY morning breakfast was an event in the 
 Larned household. It was a leisurely meal which 
 began about ten o'clock and usually lasted until 
 eleven. Harold had told Asenath about it in one of their 
 talks, so she knew what to expect. 
 
 Asenath 's eyes had been busy from the first moment 
 of her entrance into the house. She had keen vision 
 for design of any kind and a trustworthy visual memory. 
 She liked the house, the simplicity of its decoration, 
 the quiet tone of its colorings appealed to her good 
 taste. 
 
 The Larneds lived very simply. Entirely as a matter 
 of personal comfort, and not from motives of economy, 
 Mrs. Larned kept but one maid. She declared to her 
 friends that it made her housekeeping much easier. 
 She was an extraordinarily fine cook herself and 
 possessed the ability to impart her knowledge. She 
 shared at least one quality with Harold that of the 
 teacher. Her house was always orderly without prim- 
 ness. One never had the feeling that to move a chair 
 or a book from its place would make much of a change 
 in the general effect. All of the rooms looked as though 
 they had been arranged for use and comfort as well as 
 
 276
 
 THE CHOICE 277 
 
 for their appeal to the purely aesthetic. They were 
 not too orderly, and, on the other hand, they were 
 never disorderly. 
 
 Of course, Asenath did not take these facts into her 
 understanding. She was much too inexperienced for 
 that. But she saw the details, noted the general effect 
 and literally breathed the atmosphere. It was all as 
 new and strange to her as could be; it was even a 
 complete contrast to what she had seen in Mary 
 Dunne's house. There the surroundings were luxurious. 
 Although the general tone was one of restraint, the sense 
 of the costliness of it all was unavoidable, while in 
 Larneds' house one had no such feeling. 
 
 Asenath's reaction to these surroundings was instant. 
 She felt comfortable, at home. It was as though she 
 had come into her own. She could not have explained 
 it; she did not analyze her feelings, she did not even 
 identify them, she was simply at her ease. 
 
 This morning, as she came into the dining room, she 
 was more beautiful than she had ever been in her life. 
 There was a tenderness in her expression which lent 
 a spiritual quality to her perfection of feature. Both 
 Mr. and Mrs. Larned were struck with astonishment 
 at the sight of her, while Harold found himself almost 
 adoring her. 
 
 "Good morning, my dear," said Mrs. Larned, kissing 
 her, "You look perfectly lovely this morning." 
 
 Asenath was delighted. She was touched by Mrs.
 
 278 THE CHOICE 
 
 Larned's sincere admiration. "How lovely she is," she 
 thought, but she said only "Good morning," accom- 
 panied by a smile which contained a world of meaning 
 for the beholder, but which was simply the expression 
 of a pleasure which lost none of its zest because it was 
 inarticulate. 
 
 "Good morning, little girl," said Lamed senior in 
 his turn. He too kissed her and, as he did so, she con- 
 trasted her affectionate relationship to these almost 
 strangers to the cold, matter-of-fact aloofness of her 
 own parents. She was conscious of a great flood of 
 tenderness for these dear people. It was apparent in 
 her heightened color, in the quickness of her breath, 
 that she was sensible of their open-hearted acceptance 
 of her as one of them, as their daughter. 
 
 The breakfast was delicious and bountiful. The talk 
 was gay and witty, but Asenath could not understand 
 much of their badinage. It seemed to her that they 
 couldn't possibly mean many of the things which they 
 said to each other, but they were spoken apparently 
 with perfect seriousness, even though they were 
 received smilingly. "They must be joking," she thought, 
 but still it seemed queer. 
 
 Presently her turn came. Harold said : 
 
 "Asenath, we'll have to hurry, or we'll be late for 
 church." 
 
 "Church?" she exclaimed. "Do you mean it?" 
 
 "Of course. Don't you go to church every Sunday?"
 
 THE CHOICE 279 
 
 "Oh! Harold. You don't mean it. You don't want to 
 go to church." 
 
 "Of course not, but I'm perfectly willing to sacrifice 
 myself. What church shall we go to?" 
 
 Asenath was completely bewildered. She did not 
 know what to say. Mrs. Larned saw her embarrassment 
 and rushed to her rescue. 
 
 "Don't pay any attention to him, dear, he's just 
 fooling." 
 
 "Oh!" said Asenath with great relief. 
 
 "You really ought to punish him," said Mrs. Larned 
 smiling, "you ought to take him at his word and make 
 him go to church with you. It wouldn't hurt him any- 
 way." 
 
 "Do you really think we ought to go?" inquired 
 Asenath, anxious to please her mother-in-law. 
 
 "No, my dear. Not unless you really want to go on 
 your own account." 
 
 "Oh! No. I don't want to go," declared Asenath with 
 conviction, "I hate it." 
 
 During the afternoon Harold had an inspiration. He 
 determined to ask for a special leave of one week for 
 a short wedding trip. He made no doubt of his ability 
 to obtain it and asked Asenath where she would like 
 to go. She was willing to go anywhere, to do anything 
 he wanted. She had never made any trip out of the 
 city except to her Uncle's farm. Harold decided that 
 she would probably enjoy New York more than any
 
 280 THE CHOICE 
 
 other place within easy reach. She was highly delighted, 
 for New York meant to her the capital of fashion, of 
 luxury, of life on a grand scale. Suddenly it occurred 
 to her that she was without suitable clothes. Harold, 
 who knew nothing of such matters, protested that, 
 with a face and figure like hers, she did not need any. 
 While this discussion was on, Mrs. Larned came into 
 the room and agreed with Asenath. So it was decided 
 that the trip be postponed for two weeks, in which 
 time the absolutely necessary apparel could easily be 
 obtained. 
 
 Later in the afternoon, some of the connections and 
 friends of the family dropped in, and Asenath under- 
 went what she feared would be a trying ordeal, but 
 which proved to be quite the opposite. She carried 
 herself very well. As usual, she said little, but her good 
 looks, her gracious smile won everyone who met her, 
 and Harold was voted a lucky fellow. 
 
 Monday morning seemed a strange experience. She 
 arose with Harold, breakfasted with him and accom- 
 panied him to the corner where he took the car. She 
 watched him get into the car, waved her hand to him 
 and then walked slowly back to her new home. She felt 
 lonely and strange. Except for the hour during which 
 they had been separated on Saturday afternoon, she 
 had been with him constantly since their marriage. 
 And with him, she could face the whole world. Affection- 
 ately as she had been received by the Larneds, she had
 
 THE CHOICE 281 
 
 scarcely spent any time in their company alone. It 
 would have been different, she thought, if she and 
 Harold had a house of their own. She was sure that 
 she could face solitude in her own house more easily 
 than the society of Mrs. Larned in hers. 
 
 However, there was no course open but to go back, 
 and so back she went. Mrs. Larned was waiting for her. 
 
 "My dear," she said, "let's come to an understanding 
 as soon as we can. I want you to be perfectly comfortable 
 here. I want you to feel that it's your home just as 
 long as you want it to be. We musn't treat each other 
 as company. When we want to be together, we can be 
 together, and when we want to be alone, don't let's 
 have any feeling that we can't do just as we please. 
 Don't you think that will be better?" 
 
 "Yes," said Asenath. She was immensely relieved, 
 Mrs. Larned made everything so easy. 
 
 "Now, I've my work to do. You know I only keep 
 one maid regularly and I do a lot of the housework 
 myself. I prefer it. Of course, I don't do the heavy 
 work. I have a laundress who comes in two days a week, 
 and a woman, who does cleaning for me, comes a couple 
 of days. But I dress the beds and dust and do odds and 
 ends. There's always a lot of them in every house. 
 Now, you get a book or go out for a walk or do anything 
 you please." 
 
 "Can I help you?" asked Asenath. "I used to help 
 ma mother."
 
 282 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Some other time, perhaps, but not today. Remem- 
 ber you're a bride. You're entitled to take it easy for a 
 little while." 
 
 "Mrs. mother," it came very hard for Asenath 
 thus to address Mrs. Lamed in spite of the affection 
 she had shown her, "do you think I could go to see 
 my mother? Father will be at work." 
 
 "That's a fine idea. Do you want to go this morning?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "All right. Run along. You'll be back for lunch, of 
 course. One o'clock." 
 
 "Oh! Yes. I won't be long." 
 
 "Stay as long as you like, and if you should change 
 your mind about lunch and decide to stay with your 
 mother, just 'phone me." 
 
 "Oh! I'll be back." 
 
 "Tell your mother that I am sorry that we cannot 
 make each other's acquaintance as yet, but that I 
 hope we may soon be able to do so." 
 
 Asenath put on her hat and coat, which she had 
 taken off but a few minutes earlier, and set out. She 
 was surprised when Mrs. Larned offered to kiss her 
 when she was ready to go, but she did not show her 
 surprise and acted as though it was not entirely unex- 
 pected. Asenath could do these things because, though 
 quick in her actions, she was never in a hurry; she did 
 nothing precipitately. 
 
 But, as she walked down the street on this bright
 
 THE CHOICE 283 
 
 October morning, she again made the contrast between 
 Harold's parents and her own. It was sufficient for her 
 to establish the difference in her own mind. It did not 
 occur to her to go below the surface and seek the 
 reason. 
 
 She was most anxious to see her mother. In the first 
 place, she was drawn by a perfectly natural instinct, 
 and in the second, by far the more powerful, she felt the 
 need of recognition of her success in marrying a man 
 of so superior a station. She knew that she could look 
 for admiration of her exploit only from those of her 
 own condition in life. From those in a superior position 
 she would be considered merely lucky. At the risk of 
 appearing tedious, it is necessary to state that these 
 reasons were not apparent to Asenath. All that she 
 recognized was that she wanted to see her mother. 
 
 And so much did she wish to see her that, when she 
 had left the car, after what had seemed an age-long 
 ride, she fairly ran. Her ring was answered promptly, 
 but to her, to whom it appeared that two months rather 
 than two days had passed since she left home, the wait 
 was unending. 
 
 "Assie," exclaimed Mrs. McBride, as she opened the 
 door. There was no mistaking the welcome, the happi- 
 ness in her tone. "Is it really you?" 
 
 "It's me all right," answered Asenath, following her 
 mother into the house. "I thought I'd run over to 
 see how you were while papa's out."
 
 284 THECHOICE 
 
 "I'm so glad you've come. I've been dying to see 
 you. But Oh! how could you ever run away like that?" 
 
 "What was I going to do? Papa said Harold couldn't 
 come to the house to see me and I couldn't see him 
 anywhere else. So I told him on Friday noon, and he 
 told me to wait until Saturday the same time. So, on 
 Saturday he met me again at the same place and we 
 talked it all over and went right off to Berryville and 
 got married. See?" She held up her left hand so that her 
 mother might see her ring. 
 
 "Go on," said Mrs. McBride, wildly curious. "What 
 did you do then?" 
 
 "Then we went to Larneds'. Oh ! they're the loveliest 
 people. Mrs. Larned, I just can't get to calling her 
 'mother,' is just as sweet as she can be and Mr. Larned's 
 just grand. I wish you could meet them. Oh! I forgot! 
 Mrs. Larned told me to tell you that she hoped she 
 could soon meet you. You'd love her. Is papa awful 
 mad at me?" 
 
 "He won't even let me talk about you. Oh! It's 
 been awful lonely in the house without you. What 
 kind of a house is Larneds'?" 
 
 "It's beautiful. You'd just love it." And so on. 
 
 For a full hour they sat in the parlor, Mrs. McBride 
 constantly questioning and Asenath answering. When 
 Mrs. McBride finally ran out of questions, Asenath 
 said: 
 
 "Well, I guess I'd better be going. We have lunch at
 
 THE CHOICE 285 
 
 one, and we're going shopping this afternoon. I'll just 
 run upstairs to get some of my things." 
 
 "I'll come up with you and help you wrap them up." 
 
 When they were upstairs, Mrs. McBride did all the 
 work while Asenath directed. She also carried the 
 package downstairs while her daughter followed, putting 
 on her gloves. When Asenath was on the step and ready 
 to go, Mrs. McBride said : 
 
 "You'll come often, won't you?" 
 
 "Sure," answered Asenath. "So long." And off she 
 went, perfectly satisfied. She had seen admiration of 
 her and her achievement in her mother's eye. She knew 
 that Mrs. McBride would neglect her ironing in order 
 to lose no time in communicating the news, in full 
 detail, to her sister around the corner, and that, in an 
 ever widening stream, it would flow to all who knew 
 them. 
 
 In the afternoon, Asenath quite surprised Mrs. 
 Lamed by the certainty with which she chose the 
 various items of dress of which she stood in need. Mrs. 
 Lamed was also surprised and pleased by the good 
 judgment she displayed in her selections. It seemed to 
 her that Asenath was very economical, but, to Asenath, 
 who had never spent more than ten dollars at one time 
 in her life, it seemed that they were disbursing a 
 fabulous amount. 
 
 She had never imagined such joy in shopping. It 
 is true that she had always had the pleasure of anticipa-
 
 286 THE CHOICE 
 
 tion of the final result when she and her mother had 
 searched until they found the very best thing their 
 scanty funds would buy, but she had never taken any 
 great pride in accomplishing the confection of a beautiful 
 dress for ten dollars, which would have cost the average 
 purchaser three or four times as much. She sought the 
 end, to be dressed according to her taste; the limited 
 means were simply a disagreeable necessity and no 
 source of satisfaction in the result. 
 
 Their shopping was very comprehensive, and Asenath 
 enjoyed it, but long before it was over, she became 
 impatient. The time was approaching when she would 
 see Harold, and beside him, even shopping, with 
 apparently unlimited funds, was not interesting. She 
 was afraid that he might reach home before them, but 
 this fear was groundless, as they preceded him by fully 
 fifteen minutes, the last five of which Asenath spent 
 in the hall near the front door so that she might hear 
 his key the moment it entered the lock. 
 
 When he opened the door, she was waiting behind it. 
 She threw her arms about his neck, kissed him raptur- 
 ously, and then laying her head on his shoulder she 
 whispered, "Oh! Harold. I love you." 
 
 He was transported with delight. The day had seemed 
 endless, but this was a sufficient reward for any trial.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE one event of her life which always took 
 the place of greatest prominence in Asenath's 
 memory was her marriage and particularly the 
 manner of it. Not second to it, but near it nevertheless, 
 was her wedding trip. She had acquiesced in the pro- 
 posal without a great deal of interest of her own, just as 
 she would willingly have agreed to anything Harold 
 wished. At the time that he had suggested their making 
 a trip, she was so perfectly happy to be able to be with 
 him constantly that she would have been equally 
 pleased had he proposed to obtain the week's leave of 
 absence and spend it at home. 
 
 But two weeks later, when she had become somewhat 
 accustomed to being with him constantly outside of 
 office hours, the prospect of going to New York with 
 him took on a very brilliant hue. For several days 
 before they went, it was practically her only preoccu- 
 pation outside of Harold. 
 
 Seated in a Pullman for the first time, Asenath saw 
 the world from a new angle. It was like her first ride in 
 the Dunne limousine. She was delighted with it. It 
 seemed as though she had always wanted to travel 
 exactly like this, among people whose manner and dress 
 betokened financial ease if not wealth, without jostling 
 or crowding, and, above all, without any poor looking 
 
 287
 
 288 THE CHOICE 
 
 people in view, no crying babies, no immigrants or 
 negroes. 
 
 The trip to New York was a matter of but a few 
 hours. In the station they boarded a taxicab and were 
 carried to one of the fine new hotels. Asenath was 
 immensely impressed with the luxury of it all and when 
 they were shown into their rooms she dropped into an 
 armchair with a sigh of contentment. 
 
 "What is it, dear?" asked Larned. 
 
 "Oh! It's lovely here. I never thought a hotel could 
 be so fine." 
 
 "Have you visited very many?" he asked with an air 
 which showed Asenath that she was to take it as a joke. 
 
 "Yes, I've been in the Mohawk Hotel." 
 
 "Where's that?" 
 
 "That's the hotel that Uncle William goes to near his 
 farm. It's in the town nearby." 
 
 "It must be a fine joint." 
 
 "It's a joint all right. It's filthy. He took me in the 
 parlor once to wait for him while he saw a man, and it 
 looked as though it had never seen a broom." 
 
 "We had better look this place over very carefully 
 and see if it's any better." 
 
 Asenath laughed in glee at the comparison. 
 
 "By the way," said Harold, "I don't remember your 
 uncle very well, you know I didn't see much of him the 
 day I met you at his place, but it seems to me that I rec- 
 ollect him as one who would likely want to 'see a man'."
 
 THECHOICE 289 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," said Asenath, seriously. 
 
 Harold laughed. "Why, that's an expression that's 
 used to indicate that a man's going to take a drink." 
 
 "Do you know," said she, still seriously, "I never 
 thought of that, but I have heard that uncle sometimes 
 did that. Father told mother about it one time and she 
 was awful mad, but she didn't say anything." 
 
 She got up from her chair and went over to the win- 
 dow and looked out on the mass of buildings. Off to the 
 west, she saw the Hudson River, and, on the other side, 
 the Palisades, behind which the sun was setting in a sky 
 of splendor. 
 
 "Isn't it beautiful," she said, much impressed. Harold 
 came to her side and put his arm about her. He recog- 
 nized her sensibility to beauty and was deeply content 
 with her. What a rare personality was hers, how per- 
 fectly natural was her taste for the really beautiful. He 
 wondered that the child of so prosaic a pair should be 
 so gifted. 
 
 Silently they watched the slowly changing sky until 
 the last color had faded from it. Then they turned back 
 into the room. Harold switched on the lights, and once 
 more they were in the practical world. 
 
 " Do you know what we're going to do this evening?" 
 he said, and then, without waiting for an answer, went 
 on: "We're going to the theatre. David Warfield's here 
 in 'The Music Master.' Everybody says it's fine. How 
 does that strike you?"
 
 290 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Great," said she, delighted. 
 
 "This will be the first play you've ever seen, won't it? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I'll run down into the lobby and get the seats while 
 you begin dressing. Put on your glad rags. I'll be back 
 in a few minutes." 
 
 He kissed her and went off, to return in about ten 
 minutes. 
 
 " Whodoyou thinklmet down in the lobby? "he asked. 
 
 "I don't know," she answered. "Tell me." 
 
 "Wallace Graham." 
 
 "I don't know him." 
 
 "Yes you do. Don't you remember? He was with me 
 on that motoring trip last year. He was at your uncle's 
 farm when I was there." 
 
 "Oh! Yes, I remember now. But I had forgotten his 
 name." 
 
 "He's here with his wife. I knocked him all in a heap 
 when I told him I was married and to whom. They're 
 stopping at this hotel. I've arranged to meet them after 
 the show. Do you mind?" 
 
 "Not at all," she answered. She was glad to meet any 
 of his friends. To be introduced as Harold's wife was a 
 source of the greatest pride. She felt that everyone must 
 share her admiration of his great qualities, and what 
 she took as a public recognition that she had been 
 thought worthy of such a paragon was the most satis- 
 fying compliment she could possibly imagine.
 
 THE CHOICE 291 
 
 When they entered the brilliantly lighted restaurant 
 of the hotel, both of them were conscious that Asenath's 
 beauty imposed itself upon many of the diners. Harold 
 was amused at his own satisfaction at this homage. He 
 knew that he would be quite ready to disclaim any 
 interest in what anyone might think about such a mat- 
 ter, but yet he knew that he was proud to escort so 
 beautiful a girl, and was pleased at the general recogni- 
 tion of her beauty. Asenath's emotion was very simple. 
 She was delighted. The public approval was the sweetest 
 incense in her nostrils, but she gave no sign of having 
 perceived the interest she excited and followed the 
 head waiter with as little appearance of self -conscious- 
 ness as could possibly be imagined. 
 
 Halfway through their rather simple dinner, Graham 
 came to their table. Harold saw him approaching and 
 told Asenath. It was not necessary, however, to prepare 
 her, for she recognized him at almost the same moment. 
 
 "How do you do, Mrs. Larned," said Graham. "You 
 and Hal have given me quite a surprise." 
 
 "It was rather sudden," said Asenath. She was con- 
 scious that Graham was taking her hi from head to 
 foot and she knew that his impression was favorable. 
 
 "Sudden! I should say it was. I never had such a 
 jolt in all my life." 
 
 "You're married, too, aren't you?" said Asenath. 
 
 "Oh! That's an old story now. We're an old married 
 couple. Nearly six months. We're going to meet you
 
 292 THE CHOICE 
 
 after the show, you know. Mrs. Graham's awfully 
 anxious to know you. She always was kind of soft on 
 Hal until I stepped in and cut him out." 
 
 Asenath took this quite seriously but gave no sign. 
 Instead, she wore her usual charming smile of interested 
 attention. 
 
 "Don't you believe him," put in Harold. " Wally never 
 could have cut me out if I'd had any chance at all. 
 Louise, that's Mrs. Graham, couldn't see me at all." 
 
 Asenath made a mental note to ask an explanation 
 later. She was very curious as to Harold's friends, par- 
 ticularly those of the opposite sex, but had never been 
 able to get much information from him. He always 
 declared that none of them had ever interested him 
 enough to enable him to remember much about them. 
 It was quite true. 
 
 Graham remained only a minute altogether. When 
 he left, he said: 
 
 "Well, I'm sure I wish you much joy, Mrs. Larned. 
 And I believe you'll have it. Hal's one of the best fellows 
 on earth." 
 
 "Thank you," said Asenath. She was delighted. Ah! 
 This was life indeed, to meet people like Wallace Graham 
 on a footing of easy familiarity under circumstances like 
 these. She glanced about the room, with every table 
 occupied by men and women in evening dress, with the 
 deft waiters moving quickly over the thick, soft carpet. 
 Everything bespoke luxury, elegance, and, to her, refine-
 
 THE CHOICE 293 
 
 ment. She noted the fine tone of the decoration, the 
 richness of the linens, the tableware. Every detail fitted 
 perfectly into the general scheme, but her eye was quick 
 to recognize each individual point and her interest stored 
 it in her memory. 
 
 "Shall we walk to the theatre?" asked Harold when 
 they had finished. "It's only a few blocks." 
 
 "Whatever you like," she answered. 
 
 They went out into the brilliantly lighted street 
 thronged with pedestrians, with automobiles moving in 
 a steady stream in both directions. As they walked 
 slowly along the pavement, Asenath saw more types 
 than she had ever imagined could be brought together in 
 one city. Every condition in life seemed to be repre- 
 sented, from those in evening dress to the beggar in 
 tatters. She breathed deeply, exhilarated by the very 
 intensity of the life she saw about her. She was gay, 
 happy, contented beyond measure. 
 
 The theatre seemed a wonderful place to her, and the 
 play, from its very beginning, possessed her. To her it 
 was real; she entered fully into the emotions portrayed 
 by the actors, particularly those of the central character. 
 When the little musical piece, supposed to have been 
 composed by him, was played, its beauty so over- 
 powered her that she was no longer conscious of her 
 personality as an auditor, she simply lived in the play. 
 
 The intermission between the acts came as a shock, 
 and it took the best part of a minute for her to come
 
 294 THE CHOICE 
 
 back to herself. Harold spoke to her, but she scarcely 
 heard what he said. 
 
 When the curtain descended on the happy ending, she 
 sat silent, still enthralled by what she had experienced. 
 Harold stood up and picked up her wrap. Almost in a 
 dream, she arose, put it on and followed him to the 
 street. 
 
 "How did you like it?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh! It was beautiful. I'm so glad it came out all 
 right." 
 
 "It was all real to you, wasn't it?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, and it seems real yet. How can a man like 
 Warfield do that every night? I'd think it would kill 
 him to go through all of that so often." 
 
 " I don't imagine he feels about it the way you think. 
 You know it's only acting." 
 
 Asenath was silent. She feared that she was treading 
 on dangerous ground. She felt that Harold did not look 
 at the play as she had seen it; that it had not gripped 
 him as it had her. She would ask him about it later. 
 
 They met the Grahams at one of the fashionable 
 cafes. Asenath was immediately aware of a well- 
 concealed hostility towards her on the part of Louise 
 Graham. She could have stated no reason whatever for 
 her conviction as to the existence of this attitude, but 
 she knew it was there. Louise's manner towards her 
 was perfection. She was neither over-formal nor 
 reserved. On the contrary she was tactful and showed
 
 THE CHOICE 295 
 
 apparently the greatest amiability and interest. She 
 was the daughter of a man of great wealth; had always 
 been surrounded by people of culture; had been really 
 educated both at home and in fine schools; had read 
 much and, for so young a woman, had thought much. 
 She talked well, was perfectly mistress of herself and 
 indicated her quality in every word and action. 
 
 She had an expression of great intelligence, which 
 lent charm to her rather plain face. She was distinctly 
 not homely, but her features were irregular; her nose 
 was too small for her large mouth and her chin was 
 too long. She was dark, of rather less than medium 
 height, slender without being thin, had good hands 
 and feet. She dressed well and wore her clothes with 
 distinction. Asenath took in all of this almost at a 
 glance, and Louise did as much for her. 
 
 They ordered some light refreshments and began a 
 rather flippant conversation devoted mainly to persons 
 of their acquaintance. This left Asenath out of it for 
 the most part, but Harold explained to her, from time 
 to time, who the people were whom they were discuss- 
 ing, so that she might not feel herself outside of the 
 group, and, really, she enjoyed herself thoroughly. 
 
 But this sort of talk has its limits, and, after about 
 fifteen minutes of it, Louise asked Harold how he had 
 enjoyed the play. Actually, while he had enjoyed 
 Warfield's fine character work, he had found the play 
 artificial, untrue to life, and, in many respects, cheaply
 
 296 THE CHOICE 
 
 melodramatic. But he remembered Asenath's unso- 
 phisticated delight in it and did not wish to destroy 
 her illusion. 
 
 "It was nice," he said. "I think Warfield is partic- 
 ularly good. So good, in fact, that I believe he might 
 shine in a more serious role." 
 
 "Oh! Warfield is fine," she answered, "but I'm inter- 
 ested in what you thought of the play itself." 
 
 "Without Warfield," said Harold, "I suppose there 
 wouldn't be anything to it at all. But with him the 
 play strikes a popular note and therefore it must have 
 some merit, even though it's one which doesn't appear 
 to us." 
 
 "I think it's a bad play," said Louise, "because it's 
 not true to life. It's hackneyed; all of the worn-out 
 claptrap of the stage is used. And for what purpose? 
 Is there any lesson in it? Is there any food for 
 thought?" 
 
 "What you say is quite true," agreed Harold. Se 
 saw that Asenath was listening to the words, but 
 without comprehension. He felt that the conversation 
 was slipping away from her and was somewhat troubled. 
 He wished her to have a perfectly delightful evening; 
 he wanted to have no flaw of any kind in their honey- 
 moon, her education might come later. With her good 
 mind, that would be easy. He went on: "But why 
 quarrel with the public taste? The public has a right 
 to choose its own amusements, certainly if they're not
 
 THE CHOICE 297 
 
 harmful. What are you folks going to do tomorrow? 
 Have you any engagements?" 
 
 "Just wait a minute," said Louise, "we'll talk of that 
 directly. But first, I want to answer what you said 
 about the public taste. I don't agree with you at all. 
 The public shouldn't be allowed to stupefy itself with 
 sickly sentimentality of the sort that this play and 
 many others simply reek with. At least, that's my 
 opinion. Don't you agree with me, Mrs. Lamed?" 
 
 Harold was most uncomfortable. He found himself 
 excited, anxious. He was afraid that Asenath would be 
 embarrassed, would feel shame at her inability to 
 understand the tendency of the discussion. He was 
 sorry that he had consented to meet the Grahams. 
 He knew that Louise was something of a blue-stocking, 
 but he had thought that her good taste would have 
 kept her from putting Asenath in a false position. All 
 of his anxiety sprang from self-consciousness, from a 
 form of vanity, but naturally, he did not recognize it. 
 
 Asenath did not answer immediately. There was a 
 pause of perhaps five seconds before she said: 
 
 "I don't know. I never saw a play before. I thought 
 it was lovely." 
 
 Harold was greatly pleased by her answer, with its 
 utter lack of affectation of any sort. She was sincere and 
 true and she had a good mind. She would learn, and 
 then, let the others look out. 
 
 The conversation turned to other subjects. Asenath
 
 298 THECHOICE 
 
 had not much part in it but enjoyed it nevertheless. 
 The party separated shortly past midnight after arrang- 
 ing for an automobile trip through the park and into 
 the country for the following afternoon. The next day 
 being Sunday, the variety of entertainment at their 
 command was somewhat limited. 
 
 When they were again in their room at the hotel, 
 Harold sat down in the armchair while Asenath took 
 off her wrap and hung it carefully in the closet. 
 
 "How did you enjoy the evening?" he asked. 
 
 "It was lovely," she answered. "I've never had a 
 better time." 
 
 "How did you like Louise?" 
 
 "I don't know. She's awfully smart, isn't she?" 
 
 "She's very clever, and very well educated, too." 
 
 "I felt like a dummy sitting there while she was 
 talking about the play. I wanted to tell her what I 
 thought about it but I just couldn't." 
 
 "Why couldn't you?" 
 
 "I don't know. I just couldn't say a word." 
 
 "Well, what you did say when she asked you was 
 all right. It was honest and straightforward. You 
 didn't pretend that you had any opinion. I was de- 
 lighted." 
 
 Asenath glowed with pleasure. After a short pause, 
 she said: 
 
 "She don't like me." 
 
 "What makes you think that?"
 
 THE CHOICE 299 
 
 "I just know she don't." 
 
 "But how do you know?" 
 
 "I can't tell you how I know it, but it's true just the 
 same." 
 
 "Feminine intuition, I suppose." 
 
 She did not answer, but came and sat on the arm of 
 his chair. He took her hand and stroked it. Presently 
 she leaned over and kissed him, a long, intense kiss. 
 Then she began to stroke his hair. 
 
 "Dearie," she said, "I want to ask you something." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "You won't mind what I say. Will you?" 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "Are you very rich?" 
 
 "Lord! No. What put that in your head?" 
 
 "Well, I was thinking of the lot of money we're 
 spending on this trip, and I wondered whether you 
 were rich." 
 
 "I see. You think I'm extravagant?" 
 
 "No; I wasn't thinking of that." 
 
 "What were you thinking of?" 
 
 "I was thinking of how different I am from when I 
 was engaged to Jim." 
 
 "What has that got to do with it?" 
 
 "Why, when I was engaged to him, all I thought 
 about was what he could give me, a fine house, and 
 servants, and dresses and an automobile and all that, 
 but with you ," she paused.
 
 300 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Go on," he said. 
 
 "Well, with you," she resumed slowly, "all I want is 
 you. I wouldn't care what else happened to me so long 
 as I had you." And she threw her arms about his neck 
 and clung to him. 
 
 Harold was moved as never before. He was exalted, 
 and as he clasped her in a tight embrace, he humbly 
 hoped that he might always deserve her complete 
 devotion.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 THE rest of their visit to New York was most 
 delightful to both of them. To Asenath, every- 
 thing was new, one long train of joyful experi- 
 ences, while Harold enjoyed not only what they did 
 but her pleasure even more. They went again to the 
 theatre, to the opera, which Asenath enjoyed more 
 than anything else, and to a concert or two. They 
 walked, drove, ate at all sorts of restaurants. 
 
 But, in spite of the constant novelty, and notwith- 
 standing her enjoyment of every moment of their trip, 
 Asenath was more than willing to come home at the 
 end of the week. She disclaimed being tired, and 
 physically she was not so, but mentally she was. It 
 seemed to her that it would be the finest thing imagin- 
 able to have Harold with her in their own rooms with 
 no thought of the outside world. 
 
 And when they came into their rooms they found a 
 delightful surprise awaiting them. They had been 
 completely refurnished in every detail. Asenath saw 
 now, why, during their shopping expedition, Mrs. 
 Larned had questioned her so closely regarding her 
 taste in furnishings. It seemed to her that a more 
 beautiful arrangement could not be possible. So much 
 moved was she by this fresh evidence of the generous 
 affection which was offered her that she could do 
 
 301
 
 302 THE CHOICE 
 
 nothing but go to her mother-in-law and, putting her 
 arms about her, kiss her on the mouth. 
 
 "You're so good to me," was all she could say. 
 
 Their life was again what it had been for the two 
 weeks before their honeymoon trip. Harold went to 
 work at his usual hour, Asenath always accompanying 
 him to the car. When she returned, she would do some 
 housework, go out, perhaps to see her mother, or read, 
 or any one of quite a number of things. 
 
 The first Monday morning after their return from 
 New York, Mrs. Lamed said to her: 
 
 "Asenathj my dear, I'm delighted that you are so 
 much pleased with your rooms. I want you to consider 
 them as your particular home. The rest of the house 
 is for all of us, but your rooms are your own. I know 
 you'll want to take care of them yourself. You can dress 
 the beds and do the dusting every day. Once a week 
 they ought to be cleaned thoroughly and then you 
 can have Mrs. Murray, the cleaning woman, to help 
 you. What do you think of that arrangement?" 
 
 "I think it's fine," she answered. 
 
 For several weeks Asenath followed this programme 
 assiduously. She took a great pride in their rooms and 
 was most particular at first to keep everything spotless. 
 Gradually, however, the novelty wore off, and she 
 became rather careless. One afternoon, when she had 
 called to Mrs. Lamed to come up to look at something 
 or other, it was quite apparent that the room had not
 
 THE CHOICE 303 
 
 been dusted, and Mrs. Lamed was quick to perceive 
 it. She also noted that Asenath's clothes closet was in 
 great disorder. 
 
 After a little thought, she decided to speak to Asenath 
 about it, and did so with the utmost kindness, with no 
 shade of reproof in her tone or words. Asenath did not 
 show the annoyance she felt, but she did feel it keenly. 
 She admitted that she was at fault and promised to do 
 better in the future. 
 
 For a few weeks she was again very particular in the 
 care of her rooms and then she began anew to lessen her 
 efforts, with the result that the disorder of her closets and 
 drawers was worse than ever. The one thing about which 
 she was particular was Harold's clothes closet and chiffo- 
 nier. But that was for him; for herself, it did not' matter. 
 
 Mrs. Lamed had gone up to Asenath's rooms several 
 times after she had called her attention to the lack of 
 orderliness. She had been reassured at first, but as time 
 went on and the slovenliness returned, she was grieved, 
 but resolved to say nothing. At one time when she was 
 in the rooms, it was in the evening and the whole family 
 was there, her eyes had unconsciously followed Asenath, 
 as she opened the door of her closet for some purpose or 
 other, and noted the disorder within. Asenath saw her 
 glance and reddened as much with anger as with shame. 
 
 After the older Larneds had gone and Harold and 
 Asenath were making ready to retire, she came over to 
 him and said :
 
 304 THECHOICE 
 
 "Dearie, will you do something for me'?" 
 
 "Certainly, what is it?" 
 
 "I don't want to live here any more. Can't we have 
 a house of our own?" 
 
 "What's the matter with this?" 
 
 " I wouldn't care how little it was, or where it was, 
 even if it was on a back street, only so that it would be 
 just yours and mine with nobody else in it." 
 
 "You surely don't object to anyone in this house, do 
 you?" 
 
 "No; but" 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 "Oh! Don't ask me any question, dearie, please." 
 
 "Asenath, something's wrong and I want to know 
 what it is." 
 
 "Please don't ask me. I'm sorry I said anything." 
 
 "But I want to know." He was becoming somewhat 
 angry, although he maintained an even voice and raised 
 it only slightly. "You must tell me." 
 
 " I'm not satisfied here." She was almost on the verge 
 of tears. 
 
 "I want to know what's wrong," he said firmly. "Tell 
 me why you're not satisfied. I insist." 
 
 "Your mother's always picking on me," she said. The 
 tears were already in her eyes and there was a promise 
 of more to come. 
 
 " My mother! picking on you? What do you mean? 
 You must tell me exactly what she said. Do you hear?
 
 THE CHOICE 305 
 
 he continued, as Asenath did not answer but instead 
 gave herself up to silent weeping. 
 
 "Asenath," he said, quite loudly now, "stop that 
 crying and tell me what my mother found fault with." 
 
 But her only answer was more tears. She was now 
 sobbing, and Harold, who had had practically no expe- 
 rience of women's tears, had a sudden revulsion of feeling, 
 a sudden return of tenderness towards her to whom, but 
 a moment before, he had been so stern. After all, she 
 was only a child, and she would have told him in due 
 course without compulsion. He took her in his arms and 
 tried to soothe her. 
 
 " Don't cry, my dear, please don't cry," he said. " You 
 may tell me or not, just as you please. I'm sorry I spoke 
 so roughly to you. Please forgive me." 
 
 "Oh! Pm a wicked girl," she said at last, through her 
 tears. 
 
 "Wicked? What do you mean?" 
 
 But the only answer was a new flood of tears which, 
 while copious, was soon over. When she was quieter, 
 he asked her: 
 
 "What makes you say you are a wicked girl?" 
 
 "Your mother don't like the way I keep our rooms 
 and I don't keep them right. I'm a lazy, good-for-noth- 
 ing girl. I wish I was dead. Pm no good to anybody." 
 Again she gave herself up to weeping. 
 
 By this time Harold had learned that he would gain 
 more by waiting than urging, and so made no effort to
 
 306 THE CHOICE 
 
 induce her to speak. Instead he stroked her hair, and, 
 presently, he was rewarded for his patience. 
 
 "Aren't you ashamed of me?" she asked. 
 
 "No, my dear, not at all. Has my mother complained 
 to you about the way you keep our rooms? " 
 
 "No, she spoke to me once and I did them better for 
 a while, but this evening when she and father were up 
 here she watched me when I went to the closet and she 
 saw how sloppy it was, and I was so ashamed that I 
 wanted to run away." 
 
 "That's very foolish," said Harold, kindly. 
 
 "I know it is," she answered, "but Oh! Harold, can't 
 we have our own house some time?" 
 
 "Some time, but not just now. I want to save some 
 money first. Besides, it wouldn't look right if we went 
 so soon after the folks went to all the trouble to fix up 
 these rooms." 
 
 "That's so," she agreed. "It would be horrid. Please 
 forget how silly I was, and how mean," she added. 
 
 "Are you sure that that's all?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, your mother has been just lovely to me. I 
 don't know what got into me. I must have been crazy. 
 You don't hate me, do you?" 
 
 "Hate you? I guess not," and again he took her in his 
 arms. But this time she was smiling and happy in his 
 love. 
 
 Mrs. Larned had noted Asenath's rise in color when 
 she saw thatthe disorder in her closet had been observed.
 
 THECHOICE 307 
 
 She was shrewd enough to guess that shame was not the 
 only emotion which her daughter-in-law felt. She dreaded, 
 above all things, any false relationships in her family 
 and felt that even this comparatively trivial thing was 
 ground for sufficient friction between them to make their 
 separation advisable. She thought of the matter during 
 the following day, and, in the evening, when they were 
 together alone, she spoke to her husband. 
 
 "I think," she said, "that Harold and Asenath ought 
 to have a house of their own." 
 
 "Why? They seem perfectly contented here, and it's 
 fine to have them." 
 
 "There are several reasons. In the first place, as a 
 general rule, two families should not live together. There 
 must be some friction, and, in the second, Asenath is 
 entitled to be mistress of her own household. Here she 
 has to be second fiddle." 
 
 " That disposes of the general principles. Now tell me 
 just what's the matter." 
 
 "To be perfectly frank, our daughter-in-law, while she 
 is most fastidious about every item of her toilet and 
 dress, is somewhat slovenly as a housekeeper. Her rooms 
 are very untidy. In fact, they're not strictly clean." 
 
 "Have you spoken about it to her?" 
 
 "Once. And I'll not do it again." 
 
 "Why not? She's young enough to be taught, isn't 
 she?" 
 
 "Yes, quite young enough. But not by me. I want
 
 308 THECHOICE 
 
 her affection. I don't want to come in between her and 
 Harold and I certainly don't want her to come between 
 him and me. When she's in her own house, she can work 
 out her own salvation. Here there would surely be 
 friction." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 "No. I'm afraid that she's rather spoiled in one 
 respect. She has been used to having her mother wait on 
 her and she's quite ready to have me do the same. If 
 we're together and I want something and announce that 
 I'm going to get it, she's always quite willing to let me, 
 she never offers to put herself out. It's quite thoughtless, 
 I suppose, and she's only a child, but I'm afraid that 
 she'll reqai/e her own experience to bring out the best 
 in her. Nobody can do it for her." 
 
 "I see. Harold's salary isn't much, but I guess they 
 could manage." 
 
 "Couldn't we help them?" 
 
 "Yes, when they start we -can make them a substan- 
 tial present." 
 
 "Will you speak to Harold about it? Not too soon. 
 In a week or two." 
 
 "Yes. You don't want it to come too suddenly." 
 
 About ten days later, Mr. Lamed came to Harold 
 one evening and told him that they had been consider- 
 ing making him a suitable wedding present ever since 
 his marriage but had not been able to decide until that day. 
 
 "We've come to the conclusion that you and Asenath
 
 THE CHOICE 309 
 
 ought to set up for yourselves, and we're going to start 
 you right by giving you five thousand dollars. With that, 
 you can own a respectable equity in a nice little house 
 and still have enough to furnish it. We think that it is 
 only fair for you to have your own place, fair for both 
 of you." 
 
 "But you're far too generous," cried Harold. "That's 
 a young fortune." 
 
 "How could we be too generous to you, my dear boy? 
 Some day everything we have will be yours." 
 
 "Oh! I know that, but that's a long way off." 
 
 "It will be hard at first not to have you here. I'll 
 miss you tremendously. You won't mind having me for 
 a constant visitor?" 
 
 All Harold could do was to grasp his father's hand in 
 mute thanks. Any phrase would have sounded empty 
 to him. He looked his father in the eye and saw tears 
 there, tears of affectionate emotion. 
 
 "I'll run and tell Asenath," said Harold, and off he 
 went. 
 
 Asenath was wild with excitement. She did not sus- 
 pect for a moment the real reason behind the gift. 
 Indeed she had almost forgotten that she had ever 
 said she wanted a house of her own. At any rate, she 
 did not connect this proposition with its actual cause.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 BY the middle of February, Harold and Asenath 
 were settled in their new house and both of 
 them were convinced that no human habitation 
 could compare with it in any way. And it was a pretty 
 little suburban house, with just a bit of garden space 
 on all sides, which they promised themselves they 
 would cultivate as soon as Spring came. The inside of 
 the house was even prettier than the outside. Asenath 's 
 first attempt at house decorating and furnishing was 
 voted most successful by everyone, particularly her 
 husband. In no way had Asenath ever shown so much 
 sense of the appropriate. The result was striking in its 
 simplicity, in the delicacy of its coloring, in its avoidance 
 of the unnecessary. Asenath was quite ingenuous in 
 her own admiration of it and was particularly proud 
 of her ownership of an upright piano, a present from 
 Harold. She expected to take lessons in the fall, but 
 she did not actually begin for several years. 
 
 It seemed to Harold that he was now really married 
 for the first time. While they had been living with his 
 parents, it was only a variation, however striking a 
 one, from his previous mode of life. But this was distinct. 
 Their life had a complete entity of its own. He was 
 delighted, happier than ever. He even went so far as 
 to admire all of Asenath's cooking, which, to tell the 
 
 310
 
 THE CHOICE 311 
 
 truth, represented progress rather than achievement. 
 She was learning, however, and her heart was in it, 
 because it was for Harold. His approval was the one 
 reward which counted. 
 
 In the evening, after their simple dinner, they washed 
 the dishes, put them away, made all the arrangements 
 for their breakfast, and then discussed how they would 
 spend the evening. These discussions almost invariably 
 ended in their determining to spend it at home. Gener- 
 ally Harold would read to her, explaining as he went 
 along, as he thought it necessary, or just because 
 something in the narrative offered him a suggestion 
 upon which he wished to expatiate. 
 
 Sometimes they would bundle up and go for a long 
 walk. It was an unusually cold winter and they both 
 enjoyed the clear, sparkling nights under the starry 
 sky. They would return from these tramps exhilarated, 
 exuberant, sensing the joy of living to the full. 
 
 At rare intervals they went to the theatre or to a con- 
 cert. One evening a week they went to Harold's parents' 
 house for dinner. Sunday they invariably dined there. 
 
 Harold was so much taken up with his home life, he 
 was so happy under his own rooftree, that he gave up 
 all of his former evening work. Neither of them had 
 any desire to go out among the people they knew, 
 their own company was sufficient. Once or twice a 
 week Asenath went to see her mother. Her father still 
 maintained his stand against her.
 
 312 THE CHOICE 
 
 One evening Harold found last night's cigar stumps 
 still on the ash tray. He said nothing, but emptied it 
 himself. The next evening the same thing occurred, 
 and then he began to notice many little things here and 
 there, accumulations of dust, disorderly closets, care- 
 lessness in the management of the refrigerator. 
 
 It came to him with somewhat of a shock that Asen- 
 ath was, to put it mildly, not punctilious in the matter 
 of household cleanliness and order. It was something 
 which he had simply taken for granted. All of his life 
 he had known nothing of housekeeping in his mother's 
 house, things always seemed to be as they should be 
 without anyone's paying any particular attention to 
 it. In a vague way, he knew that someone had to see 
 that things were done, but that was all. 
 
 However, this was different. He did not like to find 
 fault, but he felt that it would be unfair not to be 
 perfectly frank. So, one evening, after they had finished 
 drying the dishes they had just washed, he was about 
 to begin putting them away when Asenath, who wanted 
 to go out walking, said: 
 
 "Oh! Just leave them. I'll put them away in the 
 morning." 
 
 "No, let's put them away now," he answered. 
 
 "All right," she agreed. Anything that Harold 
 wanted was exactly the right thing. 
 
 After they had finished, they went out. After a short 
 silence, Harold began:
 
 THE CHOICE 313 
 
 "Asenath, I want you to promise that you'll take 
 what I am going to say in good part, and not let it 
 annoy you." 
 
 "What is it?" she queried. 
 
 "I'll tell you in a minute, but first I want to make 
 sure that I am not finding fault or complaining. I 
 simply want to tell you my idea of something and then 
 we can talk it over quietly." 
 
 "Please, Harold, tell me what it is." Asenath was 
 becoming somewhat apprehensive. 
 
 "Well, I'd like you to be a little more particular 
 about some things in the house. I don't think you 
 noticed that, for the last three days, I have emptied 
 my ash tray every evening myself. And then " he 
 went on to mention several of the lapses which had 
 come to his notice. 
 
 When he had finished, he waited for an answer. He 
 hoped that she would not be angry. And she was not, 
 except for anger with herself, a sense of shame. As she 
 did not answer, he went on in the same considerate 
 tone which had marked his complaint. 
 
 "If there's a little too much work for you, I'll be 
 glad to help. We can talk it over and decide just how 
 we'll arrange things." 
 
 "Oh! Harold," she said, "I've got lots of time. I'm 
 just a plain I might as well say it a plain 'slob' and 
 lazy. I'm awfully ashamed, but you'll never have a 
 chance to find fault with me again for that."
 
 314 THE CHOICE 
 
 Her contrition was so open that Harold was somewhat 
 remorseful. He wanted to make it easy for her and 
 said: 
 
 "Oh, I guess I'm too particular anyway. It wasn't 
 much after all." 
 
 "No; I'm just a 'slob.' I could walk by that ash 
 tray a million times and I'd never see that it was dirty 
 until I was expecting company. But I'm going to 
 reform, you'll see." 
 
 And she did. For Harold anything was easy, nothing 
 was a trouble. She cleaned her house, not for the sake 
 of cleanliness, but to please him. And he was pleased, 
 even though complete candor on his part might have 
 compelled the admission that household order was not 
 Asenath's forte. 
 
 Their baby was expected about the middle of Septem- 
 ber and, as a consequence, they looked forward to 
 spending the entire summer at home. Before this 
 promise was held out to them, they had intended to 
 make a trip to a number of summer resorts during 
 Harold's vacation. 
 
 But now, everything they thought of or planned had 
 to take into account this wonderful child that was to 
 be born to them. Asenath was sure it would be a boy, 
 although Harold told her that she must not make up 
 her mind finally until she was sure which she wanted. 
 
 "But I know what I want," she said, quite oblivious 
 of his joke. "I want a boy."
 
 THE CHOICE 315 
 
 "I suppose if it should happen to be a girl you'd 
 return it, wouldn't you?" 
 
 "No, I couldn't do that, of course, but it must be a 
 boy." 
 
 "All right," he said, still teasing, "have it your own 
 way." 
 
 One evening Harold brought home a book on some 
 sociological subject which had been given to him with 
 a strong recommendation. At the time, he was reading 
 a story to Asenath in which she was much interested. 
 After their dinner they went into the library, as they 
 called it, and Asenath got out some part of the layette 
 on which she was engaged and made ready to sew, 
 expecting Harold to read to her as usual. This evening, 
 however, he was anxious to read the book he had 
 brought and he asked if she would mind if he read that 
 instead of the story. Asenath complied immediately. 
 
 So he began reading aloud. He was much interested 
 and did not notice that she was not taking in the 
 meaning of what she heard. Presently, at some fine 
 point made by the writer, he said: 
 
 "That's great, isn't it?" 
 
 "What?" she asked. 
 
 "That point about ," and then he went on to give 
 his view of what he had just read. 
 
 "I don't understand it," said Asenath. 
 
 He tried to explain it simply so that she would be 
 able to comprehend it, but it was of no use. She had
 
 316 THE CHOICE 
 
 neither the knowledge nor the mentality necessary. 
 So he said kindly, "Well, I guess it's a subject that you 
 wouldn't find very interesting anyway. Let's get back 
 to the book we were reading last evening. You like 
 that, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes, but you want to read this new book. You just 
 go on and read it to yourself and I'll sit here and sew." 
 
 Harold did not require coaxing and went on with his 
 book. Once or twice Asenath asked him a question, 
 which he answered in a few words, and then went back 
 to his reading. She was quite content. She was with 
 him and that was enough. 
 
 But the following evening he again read alone while 
 she sewed and the next evening which they spent at 
 home passed in the same way. In a couple of weeks 
 he had practically given up reading to her and insen- 
 sibly she lost what small habit of reading she had formed 
 under his encouragement. 
 
 It was perfectly natural. Although she had enjoyed 
 most of her reading, it had been an artificially stim- 
 ulated taste and owed more to his interest in it than her 
 own. Besides, she was busy with her sewing in all of 
 her spare time and the habit of reading dropped from 
 her without her perceiving it. 
 
 But Harold, released from going through books of a 
 kind which he had long outgrown, followed his own 
 bent and kept himself occupied with literature for 
 which she had neither taste nor equipment.
 
 THE CHOICE 317 
 
 During the hot summer evenings when there was 
 little to do except to sit on the porch or to take an 
 occasional walk, Harold sometimes found the time 
 pass rather slowly. Their neighbors, with some of whom 
 they were on a friendly footing, rather bored him. 
 They were mostly dull, unimaginative people, with no 
 thoughts beyond the day's work and their petty 
 amusements: sports, cards, dancing and all sorts of 
 pastimes which called for neither knowledge nor good 
 taste. 
 
 He began to miss his teaching, but he could not think 
 of leaving Asenath alone in her present condition. He 
 was as much in love with her as ever, really more so, 
 in spite of the fact that the more elemental quality 
 of her attraction for him was tempered both by habitua- 
 tion and the sense of responsibility which the coming 
 event imposed. He enjoyed her companionship now 
 more than ever because there was in it a sense of the 
 established, the solid, which had been built upon her 
 proven devotion. The sight of her upon his return from 
 work always produced in him a deep sense of thank- 
 fulness. 
 
 But Harold's was a complex nature. His mind was far 
 too active, his interests too many and too varied to per- 
 mit him to feel contented with affection only. He required 
 mental stimulation. Rest for him was a change of occu- 
 pation, not mere quietude. 
 
 Harold was not what might be called a great reader.
 
 318 THE CHOICE 
 
 He was fond of books and got much out of them. But 
 he was neither a bookworm nor a student. His energy 
 was discharged in action. It was necessary for him to be 
 doing something. Having given up all of his teaching 
 and his active participation in the scientific societies of 
 which he was a member, he was practically reduced to 
 reading for the pleasures of the mind. 
 
 He was by no means discontented. On the contrary, 
 he was very happy and Asenath had not the remotest 
 suspicion that there had been any change in him. In 
 fact, there had been none; it was the reassertion of his 
 ordinary self that caused mere dalliance to cloy on him. 
 He jested with her as always; he was actively interested 
 in everything she had to tell him; he enjoyed watching 
 the development of her ideas of life as her horizon 
 widened. 
 
 In August they decided that they required the serv- 
 ices of a maid. "They'* meant Harold, who had been 
 prompted by his mother. Mrs. Larned arranged the 
 matter with Asenath, but did it so tactfully that the 
 young woman felt that she had done it herself. 
 
 Asenath felt very important in having a maid. At 
 first, she was somewhat diffident in the presence of her 
 servant, who, by the way, was several years older than 
 her mistress. But Asenath was an apt pupil in all mat- 
 ters of social usage and soon learned to maintain the 
 proper relation. She was alone with her for many hours 
 of the day and relied upon her to a great extent for
 
 THE CHOICE 319 
 
 company. The maid was a very agreeable, sensible per- 
 son, quite wise enough to recognize that she had an 
 excellent position. With the girl to do the work, Asenath 
 became more scrupulous in carrying out what she held 
 to be Harold's ideas of household order.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 THE baby was born at about the expected time 
 and was a fine, healthy boy. Everybody but 
 Asenath was surprised that her expectation had 
 been realized. Asenath, however, took the sex of the 
 child as a matter of course. Everything connected with 
 thebirthof thechild went as smoothly as possible, and, in 
 the prescribed time, Asenath reappeared on the first 
 floor, anxious for the moment at which the nurse would 
 depart, so that she might take exclusive care of her baby. 
 
 She had never imagined that she could be so interested 
 in any child, even her own. As to that, until she knew 
 that she was actually to bear a child, she never had 
 thought about herself as a mother. But now, only 
 Harold could hope to compete in her affection with 
 "Baby," as they called him. 
 
 Asenath wanted to call the baby by his father's name, 
 but Harold objected. He claimed to have a prejudice 
 against the " Jr." Actually, he did not like the name of 
 Harold, although he had no reason to offer for his dislike. 
 His refusal left the matter undecided, because, when 
 Asenath asked him to propose some other name, he 
 answered : 
 
 "He's your child. You name him." 
 
 Up to that time they had never discussed the matter. 
 Harold had not thought of it and Asenath had taken 
 
 320
 
 THE CHOICE 321 
 
 it for granted that the child would bear its father's 
 name. 
 
 When Harold came home on the evening of the nurse's 
 departure, Asenath called to him quietly from the head 
 of the stair to come up, but to be careful to make no 
 noise. 
 
 He ran up lightly and followed Asenath, who, with 
 her finger on her lips, led the way into their bedroom 
 and pointed to the cradle where the baby lay sleeping. 
 As Harold stood there, regarding his child with con- 
 siderable emotion, Asenath came to him and, putting 
 her arms around his neck, kissed him. Never before had 
 he felt his marriage so deeply. He was pervaded by a 
 sense of great content, of established peace with himself 
 and the world, quite in contrast to the excitement in 
 which he saw Asenath and the baby shortly after he 
 was born. 
 
 At first, the house had seemed to belong to outsiders. 
 The nurse presided and gave everyone orders. It had 
 seemed to him that even the maid held a position in the 
 household superior to his. Afterwards things gradually 
 approached the normal without quite reaching it. But 
 now, the nurse was gone and it was again their own home. 
 
 After dinner that evening they were sitting together 
 in their library, Asenath engaged in some sewing and 
 Harold with a book open before him, which, however, 
 he was not reading. From time to time, he made some 
 remark which Asenath answered, but their conversation
 
 322 THE CHOICE 
 
 was not continuous. Asenath had something on her 
 mind and, presently, it appeared. 
 
 "Dearie," she said, "I've been thinking." 
 
 "Thinking of what?" he asked. 
 
 "I've been wondering if you would be willing to have 
 Baby christened in our church." 
 
 Harold knew what she meant but professed ignorance. 
 
 " I didn't know we had any church. You surely don't 
 mean the Unitarian Church." 
 
 " Don't be simple. I mean our old church, the Second 
 Presbyterian." 
 
 "Well, that's a pretty good church. I don't mind." 
 
 "Do you object to the name Thomas for a boy?" 
 
 Harold saw her point immediately but did not let 
 her see it. 
 
 He answered: 
 
 "Thomas is a good name. I don't object to it. But 
 why Thomas?" 
 
 "I thought," said Asenath with some hesitation, 
 "that it might be a good thing, if you didn't mind, to 
 call Baby after my father and have him baptized at our 
 church. Maybe he'd feel different to me." 
 
 "I didn't think you cared," said Harold, quite 
 seriously. 
 
 "I didn't think I did either," she answered, "but I do. 
 I want him to be friendly with us. I don't want to see 
 him often, but I'd like to feel that he wasn't angry with 
 me. You understand, don't you?"
 
 THE CHOICE 323 
 
 "Surely," he answered. "We'll call him Thomas 
 McBride Lamed. T. M. Lamed. That isn't a poor- 
 sounding name. Of course, he'll be Tom or Tommy to 
 everybody, but that's as good as Hal and much better 
 than Harold. Do you really think that'll win your 
 father over?" 
 
 " I'm sure it will. I was asking my mother about it 
 today. She was here. She thinks Baby's getting prettier 
 every day. She thinks he's the image of you." 
 
 "That makes about twenty that think he looks like 
 me against about ten that pronounce him the image of 
 you." 
 
 "He does look like you. He don't look one bit like 
 me. He's got your eyes for one thing." 
 
 And so on. It was a never-ending topic. 
 
 It required only the news of the decision to name the 
 baby for him to bring McBride to visit Asenath. His 
 determination to have nothing to do with her had cost 
 him much regret. She was his daughter, after all, and 
 the family spirit was strong in all of them. It was a queer 
 kind of affection, one that offered so little of the custom- 
 ary manifestation that it was difficult to recognize. 
 This, however, has been mentioned before and there is 
 no need to revert to it except to call attention to the 
 fact that McBride's pride was even stronger. Having 
 stated that he would have no more to do with Asenath, 
 he was bound to hold to his determination until some 
 unusual propitiation was offered. And what was now
 
 324 THE CHOICE 
 
 offered fully met the requirements. Not only was the 
 baby to bear his full name but it was to be christened 
 in his church. 
 
 McBride came the very next evening, accompanied 
 by his wife. She was perfectly happy in the reconcilia- 
 tion. She could now come to see Asenath as often as 
 she wished and she could meet Harold's parents. To her 
 it was a most brilliant prospect. 
 
 Harold met his parents-in-law as though there had 
 never been anything but perfect good will between 
 them. He was most affable. McBride was not embar- 
 rassed, but appeared to be so. He was a stiff-necked indi- 
 vidual, and, on this occasion, was so particular not to 
 be unfriendly that his manner was almost brusque. 
 
 McBride had to content himself with a view of his 
 grandson in sleep. He pronounced him a fine baby and 
 remarked a resemblance to his own father, by the way, 
 the ancient with the chin beard and shaven upper lip 
 whose portrait was one of the principal adornments of 
 the McBride parlor. 
 
 After the baby had been viewed, they all went into the 
 library and a somewhat desultory general conversation 
 followed. McBride addressed all of his remarks to 
 Harold, following his usual custom of ignoring the ladies 
 of his family. 
 
 The only matter of importance which they discussed 
 was the christening. It was arranged to take place in 
 January, which was the month in which the next com-
 
 THE CHOICE 325 
 
 munion service would occur. It was also arranged that 
 Harold and Asenath were to eat dinner at McBrides' 
 house on that day in order further to solemnize the 
 importance of the event. 
 
 When these details were all settled, McBride was 
 ready to go. For once, however, his wife was not ready 
 with instant obedience. She was enjoying herself in the, 
 to her, elegant surroundings of Asenath's home and 
 wished to prolong the pleasure. It was not quite half- 
 past eight, and, calling McBride's attention to this fact, 
 she asked him to wait a little longer. He consented, 
 whereupon she and Asenath promptly disappeared with 
 the design of inspecting the layette. 
 
 The half -hour of their absence was a very long period 
 for both men. They had nothing whatever in common 
 which they could discuss, and, as McBride had no skill 
 in making conversation, the burden of providing topics 
 fell upon Harold. McBride's wonted taciturnity made 
 this difficult, for he limited his share of the conversa- 
 tion to monosyllables which immediately disposed of 
 every subject that was offered and, consequently, 
 Harold's invention was put to a severe test. 
 
 At last the women returned and the visit was over. 
 Harold saw them leave with great thankfulness and 
 resolved inwardly that he would devote himself in 
 future to avoiding his father-in-law. He did not announce 
 his determination to Asenath, for her pleasure in the 
 visit was unmistakable.
 
 326 THE CHOICE 
 
 Thomas McBride Lamed went through the first four 
 months of his sojourn upon earth with the customary 
 joys and trials of a perfectly healthy baby, and, at the 
 end of this time, attended his own baptism with serenity 
 if not enthusiasm. Harold was bored and amused by 
 the whole proceeding. 
 
 Not so Asenath, however. For her it was immensely 
 important and most impressive. There was not a spark 
 of real religious feeling in her, but she enjoyed the social 
 distinction which she felt the event brought her. Here, 
 in the church in which she had been a regular communi- 
 cant, where she was known by everyone, her marriage 
 to a man of fine family of established position was recog- 
 nized, and the consummation of this marriage, her baby, 
 was formally received. It was a rare triumph for her, the 
 finest she had ever known. She was fully cognizant of 
 the interest of the majority of the congregation in her 
 and her family and she found it altogether delightful. 
 
 Particularly did she enjoy meeting Susan. That young 
 woman was on the lookout for her, scenting a possible 
 social opportunity. She greeted Asenath with an effusion 
 which was in no way overdone. Really, she was very 
 glad to see her, and, during their short talk, an invita- 
 tion to visit Asenath was the most natural thing in the 
 world. Asenath was much flattered by Susan's obvious 
 admiration and was glad that she was to be one of their 
 dinner party. 
 
 The dinner at McBrides' was, in her eyes, a fitting
 
 THECHOICE 327 
 
 end to the joyful event. She helped her mother and 
 Susan both in the service of the meal and the subsequent 
 clearing up. Mrs. McBride protested, but feebly. As for 
 Asenath, it was a rare pleasure to renew, as a pleasant 
 task, what compulsion had formerly made an onerous 
 duty. 
 
 The visit came to an end early in the afternoon and 
 Harold and Asenath returned to their own home with 
 great satisfaction. Harold's was due to the fact that it 
 was all over, and Asenath's to the formal resumption of 
 her place in her own family.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 AEW days later Harold chanced to meet one of 
 the teachers in the night school with which he 
 had formerly been connected. In their short 
 talk, the proposition of Harold's renewing the work 
 he had given up a year ago was broached and was 
 received not unfavorably. In fact, he had several times 
 found himself wishing to return to this work and had 
 considered discussing the matter with Asenath. He 
 was conscious of unrest, and, although they now quite 
 frequently went out in the evenings to the theatre, or 
 to the houses of some of their acquaintances, he was 
 dissatisfied. What passed for social pleasure with most 
 people bored him excessively. Card parties he would 
 have none of, and dancing and small talk failed to give 
 him any enjoyment. There was little offered in the 
 theatres which he found worth either the time or the 
 money it cost. 
 
 There was no real conversation between him and 
 Asenath. She had no taste for and was utterly ignorant 
 of the subjects which interested him and they were 
 reduced to discussing the unimportant details of their 
 household, their baby and the comparatively few 
 people with whom they were both acquainted. When 
 they spent an evening together he read some book 
 
 328
 
 THE CHOICE 329 
 
 interesting to himself only, while she sewed or, occasion- 
 ally, read some story which caught her fancy. 
 
 She was perfectly contented. She had no taste for 
 the subjects which held his attention and was quite 
 satisfied merely to be with him, to feel his presence. 
 No suspicion entered her mind that he found her less 
 interesting than before their marriage. A little reasoning 
 would have brought it quickly before her, but Asenath, 
 as has been frequently demonstrated, was not intro- 
 spective. The fact that, formerly, Harold read aloud 
 for her benefit was one thing, and that he now read 
 almost invariably for his own was another. There was 
 no particular reason for her to join them and to con- 
 sider their interrelation, as long as he was there with 
 her, as long as he evinced affection for her and appeared 
 to be interested in what she had to say to him. She had 
 had great pleasure in his reading aloud, but, if he 
 found more enjoyment in reading to himself, that was 
 sufficient. She accepted it without thought. It was right 
 and she was satisfied because it was his wish. 
 
 Harold had not discussed with Asenath his desire 
 to resume his teaching when he was first conscious of 
 it because of the baby's coming. He felt that it was out 
 of the question for him to consider leaving Asenath 
 alone. But, as they resumed their occasional going 
 out in the evening, it seemed to him that the subject 
 might be broached. However, he had not done so, held 
 back by some sentiment which defied his own analysis.
 
 330 THECHOICE 
 
 But, on the evening of this day, he spoke to Asenath 
 about the matter. He told her of his meeting and 
 dwelt particularly on the great need there was for 
 teachers and the pressing demand which had been 
 made on him. He finished by saying that he thought 
 he ought to do the work, but did not dwell upon his 
 own keen desire for it. 
 
 "Are you going to do it?" she asked. 
 
 "I think I will. That is, if you're satisfied." 
 
 "I don't like to have you away two evenings in the 
 week, but if you think it's your duty, I'm willing." 
 
 "I thought you'd feel that way about it. It won't 
 be a terribly long separation anyway, for I'll be home 
 for dinner and back again by ten-thirty." 
 
 "It'll seem long to me," said Asenath. 
 
 He began the work in the early part of February. He 
 attacked it with the zest of a hungry man. The work 
 was most delightful to him, for he loved to teach. It 
 was the function for which he was best fitted. His 
 contentment, due to his having this outlet for his 
 energy, was so great that it showed itself in an increased 
 display of affection for Asenath. He was as lively as 
 the proverbial cricket; he jested with her and indulged 
 in many of the verbal extravagances which delighted 
 her. He was thoroughly happy. 
 
 Asenath did not connect his renewed exuberance 
 with the resumption of his teaching. She merely 
 accepted it and was pleased. She made no comparisons.
 
 THE CHOICE 331 
 
 However, she found Monday and Thursday evenings 
 very long and tedious. She was quite accustomed to 
 his being away for ten hours during the day. She had 
 her work to do, there was the baby to care for, she 
 exchanged visits with her mother and some of her 
 acquaintances. But the evening was the crown of the 
 whole day. That was the time she spent with Harold. 
 She was contended, happy all day long, but in the 
 evening, from the moment that she heard his key in 
 the lock of the front door, she was conscious of more 
 than contentment. It might almost be called exaltation. 
 
 Susan came to visit her one evening shortly after the 
 christening. They had made no engagement, she merely 
 dropped in. It happened that Harold and Asenath 
 were going out this evening. However, Susan had come 
 very early, about half-past seven, and they did not 
 intend leaving home until after eight. When she left, 
 it was with the promise to come the following Monday 
 evening for dinner, after which, as they put it, she and 
 Asenath would spend the evening "talking over old 
 times." Harold found Susan rather amusing; she was 
 vivacious, used slang with great effect because it was 
 her natural means of expression, and was possessed of 
 a native shrewdness which enabled her to judge the 
 people with whom she came into contact with great 
 accuracy. 
 
 Susan was much impressed by the dinner. It was the 
 first time in her life that she had seen service like this
 
 332 THE CHOICE 
 
 and it seemed to her wonderfully elegant. Although she 
 was blessed with a good appetite, she ate very little, 
 because the novelty of the experience excited her. She 
 had to watch Asenath to learn what to do and, besides, 
 she had to keep up her end of the conversation with 
 Harold, who found her an admirable contender and 
 was therefore spurred on to outdo her in friendly 
 raillery. 
 
 After he had left, Asenath and Susan had a long talk 
 largely made up of questions put by Susan as to 
 Asenath's life during the last year. Susan also had 
 a great deal to tell on her own account. Finally she 
 asked Asenath how she and Harold spent their evenings. 
 
 "We usually stay at home," said Asenath. "Harold 
 reads and I sew, and we talk." 
 
 "Do you do that every night?" 
 
 "Oh! no. We go out now and then. We used to, 
 anyway, before Harold began to teach in the night 
 school. Now we don't go out at all except to his folks' 
 house." 
 
 "Don't you find it awful dull?" 
 
 "Why! No. As long as Harold's home, I'm perfectly 
 satisfied." 
 
 "I should think you'd get the willies always sticking 
 at home. Don't you ever want to go out?" 
 
 "I do go out in the daytime when I want to." 
 
 "Oh! I don't mean that. Don't you ever want to go 
 to a show or a dance?"
 
 THE CHOICE 333 
 
 "I wouldn't mind going, if Harold wanted to go, 
 but he doesn't get any fun out of going to things like 
 that, so I don't care." 
 
 "See here, Queenie, you're just about twenty, ain't 
 you? How many times do you think you're going to 
 live? Only once. You'll be young only once and the 
 time to have your fun is now, when the going's good. 
 It'll be time to settle down when you're old." 
 
 "I'm perfectly satisfied," answered Asenath. And she 
 meant it. 
 
 "You must be just crazy about him." 
 
 "I am. He's just wonderful. He don't have to say 
 one word to me. All I want is just to have him here 
 with me. Then nothing else counts." 
 
 "Do you think he feels that way about you?" 
 
 "I don't know. I guess so." 
 
 "It's different with a man, I guess," said Susan, after 
 a little thought. "If he felt like you do, I guess he 
 wouldn't be willing to go off twice a week to that school 
 of his." 
 
 This was a new idea for Asenath, something that 
 hadn't occurred to her. It gave her a sense of injury, a 
 feeling that perhaps her great love for Harold was not 
 fully reciprocated. She said nothing, but gazed medi- 
 tatively into the fire which was slowly dying on the 
 hearth. After a pause, Susan broke the silence. 
 
 "What time does he usually come home?" she asked. 
 
 "About half-past ten. He'll be in any minute now."
 
 334 THE CHOICE 
 
 They went on with their talk, but no longer with the 
 same briskness. The year and more which had passed 
 without their meeting had interposed a barrier between 
 them. Each had led her own life in widely removed 
 spheres and there was not much with which to bridge 
 the gap. They could talk of their experiences during 
 the separation, but, in both cases, it was news from a 
 foreign country, of no immediate concern to the other. 
 
 At last, Harold came in. He was surprised to find 
 Susan still there, and somewhat annoyed because he 
 thought he might have to take her home. He did not 
 show his annoyance, however, and made the offer with 
 the appearance of perfect good faith. Susan assured 
 him that she did not mind going home alone, that she 
 was used to it and that, further, the idea of taking him 
 out on so useless an errand on a cold night like this 
 would make her very uncomfortable and, besides, 
 would go far to prevent her coming again in the evening. 
 
 Thus reassured, Harold let her go, and was so much 
 relieved that he became even more cheerful than usual 
 and was so talkative that he failed to notice a certain 
 amount of preoccupation on Asenath's part occasioned 
 by the thought that Susan had put into her head. 
 
 A few weeks later Harold came home one evening and 
 told Asenath that he had met Wallace Graham that 
 day at lunch and that Wallace had told him that they 
 ought to see more of each other. Wallace and Harold 
 had been friends for many years, quite intimate, in
 
 THE CHOICE 335 
 
 fact, until they were both married. At this particular 
 meeting, both of them much hurried, they had not 
 opportunity to say half of the things they wished to 
 tell each other. As they left, Wallace said that it was a 
 shame that they met so seldom. There was no need for 
 it, and thereupon they arranged that they and their 
 wives were to dine with each other every two weeks. 
 The first dinner was to be Grahams' on the following 
 Saturday evening. 
 
 "Just plain meals. No company fussing," said Harold 
 to Asenath. "No programme, no arrangements in 
 advance. If we want to go anywhere we'll go and if 
 we want to stay home, why, we'll stay home." 
 
 Asenath assented, but she was not pleased. She felt 
 that Louise Graham looked down upon her and upon 
 that reason Asenath justified her dislike. But Harold 
 wanted to go and that was sufficient.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 NOR was Louise Graham pleased when Wallace 
 announced the arrangement he had made with 
 Harold. She had always liked Harold and would 
 have been happy if she could have aroused some real 
 interest in him. But this she had never been able to do. 
 Asenath she did not like. In the first place, Asenath had 
 succeeded where she had failed, and, in the second, she 
 looked upon her as an upstart, entirely out of her class 
 in her present environment. 
 
 When Wallace told her that the two couples were to 
 meet every two weeks, beginning the Saturday imme- 
 diately following, she contented herself by saying: 
 
 "You won't keep it up long." 
 
 "Why not? "he asked. 
 
 "Because you're both married. You and Hal have 
 always been good friends and probably always would 
 have been. But that won't make your wives friends, and 
 you may be sure, in this case, that that silly little wife 
 of Hal's won't let him come here without a struggle. 
 She doesn't like me, you know." 
 
 "Well, do you like her?" 
 
 "I'm utterly indifferent with regard to her. I shall 
 never be able to explain how a superior fellow like Hal, 
 much above the average, could ever bring himself to 
 marry such a person." 
 
 336
 
 THE CHOICE 337 
 
 "They say 'love is blind'." 
 
 "It must be." 
 
 The dinner went off very smoothly. Louise had deter- 
 mined to do her best not to spoil the affair and was most 
 particular in her behavior towards Asenath. She induced 
 her to talk about the baby, about matters of the house- 
 hold, got her to tell her what plays she had seen, what 
 books she had read and avoided altogether any phase of 
 these subjects which might bring Asenath's ignorance 
 into relief. 
 
 Although it was not meant unkindly, Asenath in- 
 wardly resented being talked down to. Shefelt humiliated 
 and was angry, although she showed it neither hi voice 
 nor manner. Louise was quite delighted with herself. 
 She was convinced that she had completely hidden her 
 dislike. All through the dinner she kept Asenath in the 
 conversation, and, at the same tune, managed to keep 
 the men in too. 
 
 When they arose from the table, Louise began a con- 
 versation with Harold alone, leaving Wallace and 
 Asenath to themselves. Presently she took Harold into 
 another room to show him some picture which she had 
 recently bought. He found it most interesting, so much 
 so that it opened a discussion between them which lasted 
 nearly half an hour. Louise talked extremely well, she 
 knew the subject and so did he. There was much which 
 they held in common. She saw that he was interested 
 and fairly outdid herself in the liveliness of her ideas and
 
 338 THECHOICE 
 
 the brilliancy of her expression. As she was speaking, 
 Harold was suddenly struck by the great contrast between 
 her and Asenath. What a fine companion she must be 
 for a man of intellectual tastes. Harold, it may be 
 observed, was in no doubt whatever as to his inclusion 
 in that category. It was stimulating to be with her. He 
 wondered whether Wallace really appreciated her at her 
 true value. He thought of these things in an under 
 story of his mind while the main floor, so to speak, was 
 occupied by what she said. She was brilliant, there was 
 no doubt, and Asenath was, well she was lovely of 
 course, but she surely had no semblance of a mind like 
 this. Ah! it was a pity. 
 
 When she had finished with a smile which told him 
 that she was thoroughly aware that she had talked well, 
 he said: 
 
 "You certainly put that very clearly." 
 
 "Do you think so?" she asked with pleasure. 
 
 "I certainly do. I've never heard even you talk so 
 well." 
 
 "Perhaps I was inspired by my companion." 
 
 "You're very modest." 
 
 "No, I'm not. It makes a big difference whom one 
 has for a listener." 
 
 "I suppose this then is nothing to what you say to 
 Wallace." 
 
 "Oh! Wallace!" she said with a pout. 
 
 "What's the matter with him?"
 
 THE CHOICE 339 
 
 "I suppose nothing's the matter, but I can't talk to 
 him about things like that." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "He isn't interested in the first place and, in the 
 second, Oh! what's the use of talking about him? But 
 I can talk to you, I always could. There seems to be a 
 sympathy, an understanding between us that makes me 
 sure of myself." 
 
 "Yes, I guess there is. We always did have great 
 talks, didn't we?" He said this musingly. He was won- 
 dering how it was that she had never strongly attracted 
 him. As he remembered their talks of old, it appeared 
 that they had always indulged in a battle of wits, they 
 were always at swords' length. He wondered why. 
 
 "Didn't we?" she answered, unconsciously repeating 
 his phrase. "Oh! Hal, I am very hungry for sympathy 
 nowadays." She laid her hand on his arm. The gesture 
 spoke volumes. He did nothing to show it, but he was 
 greatly surprised. Was this woman, the wife of his best 
 frier. 1, flirting with him? He had no doubt of it, nor had 
 he any doubt of his total lack of desire to meet her on 
 that ground. She had never appealed to him except as 
 a brilliant intellect. He had never been drawn to her, 
 she had never been able to arouse any interest in him 
 based on the difference in sex. 
 
 "You surprise me," he said. He could not have 
 explained why he was willing to go on with this talk. 
 Perhaps it was mere curiosity to see how far she would go.
 
 340 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Why do you find it surprising?" she asked, with an 
 appearance of great earnestness, "surely you know how 
 matter-of-fact Wallace is." 
 
 "I didn't think he would be with you." Harold really 
 had never thought about it at all. 
 
 "Oh! Don't let's talk about him. He's had his chance 
 and he hasn't taken advantage of it." She spoke rather 
 bitterly. 
 
 "Why do you tell me this?" he asked. There was a 
 slight emphasis on the word "me." 
 
 "I don't know," she answered, "I'm sure I didn't 
 mean to when I began. But, Hal," she said, "you do 
 understand me, don't you?" 
 
 " I suppose so," he replied, wondering whether she 
 meant that he sympathized with her or merely justified 
 her discussion of the subject with him. 
 
 "I'm sure you do," she went on. "I hope nothing will 
 ever break into our friendship. It's very sweet to me." 
 
 The words were harmless enough, but the manner was 
 significant. He knew definitely that she was inviting him 
 into a flirtation. Her hand was still onhisarm. She looked 
 anxiously into his eyes, seeking some indication of 
 awakened interest. 
 
 But now he merely despised her. With out appearing to 
 notice her hand lying on his arm, he moved away, saying: 
 
 " I suppose we'd better find out what the others are 
 up to." 
 
 They found Wallace and Asenath turning the pages
 
 THE CHOICE 341 
 
 of an illustrated book. Wallace was making humorous 
 comments, apparently for his own benefit solely, for 
 Asenath wore a most serious expression. Harold was 
 conscious that something was wrong, he could not 
 imagine what, but he knew that something had dis- 
 pleased her. Of that he was sure. 
 
 The rest of the evening, short as it was, was entirely 
 unsuccessful and all of them were glad when it was late 
 enough for the Larneds to go without proclaiming that 
 the affair had been a dismal failure. 
 
 Harold and Asenath walked to the corner at which 
 they were to take the car. Neither of them uttered a 
 word. He was out of sorts. All of his and Wallace's 
 hopes for the success of these meetings were blasted. It 
 was not necessary to discuss the matter, all of them 
 knew it. He was particularly angry with Louise. What 
 right had she to suppose that he was open to a flirtation 
 with her? It was perfectly ridiculous in her and an 
 insult to him as well, leaving Wallace out of considera- 
 tion. And suddenly there came into his memory some 
 chance remark that Wallace had made to him the day 
 they had met which took on a new meaning now. There 
 was no doubt of it, Louise and Wallace were not satis- 
 fied with their marriage. Each of them possessed appar- 
 ently every qualification. Any one would have said they 
 were perfectly suited to each other. But the fact was 
 that they were not. 
 
 As he thought these things, he was conscious that
 
 342 THECHOICE 
 
 Asenath was unusually silent. Then he remembered her 
 expression as she sat by Wallace looking at the book as 
 he and Louise came into the room. 
 
 " What was the matter with you this evening?" he 
 asked. "You weren't paying any attention to Wallace 
 at all, at least when I came into the room. " 
 
 "Nothing," said Asenath and walked on silently. 
 
 Harold waited a few minutes and then returned to 
 the attack. 
 
 " There was something," he said. " I could see by your 
 expression that you were annoyed. What was it?" 
 
 "Nothing," repeated Asenath. 
 
 "Don't go on saying 'nothing,' I know something 
 happened. Did Wallace say anything to displease you? " 
 
 "No." she answered. "He was very nice." 
 
 "Well, what was it then?" Harold's annoyance was 
 rapidly becoming anger and it was with difficulty that 
 he kept his voice down to its normal pitch. 
 
 "It was nothing, I tell you," said Asenath. Her voice 
 was decidedly shaky as she added, "Please don't talk 
 about it any more." 
 
 "But I want to know There's our car. Run for it." 
 
 They ran and caught the car. It was crowded and 
 they were compelled to stand. Conversation was prac- 
 tically impossible. It was but a short ride, although long 
 enough for Harold's anger to subside considerably. As 
 they walked towards their house, he began again, but 
 in a much quieter tone:
 
 THE CHOICE 343 
 
 " Won't you please tell me, Asenath, what was wrong?" 
 
 " Please don't ask me, Harold. I feel miserable enough 
 without talking. Please." 
 
 She walked on in silence. So did he, but he was again 
 becoming angry, this time as a result of what he con- 
 sidered her obstinacy. 
 
 They entered the house and Asenath immediately 
 went upstairs. She looked in at the baby, found him 
 sleeping quietly and then went into her dressing room 
 and closed the door, a thine which she had never done 
 before. 
 
 Harold went into the library and picked up a book 
 in the hope of regaining his composure. Try as he would, 
 he could not fasten his attention on the words before 
 him, and, after several attempts, gave it up and went 
 upstairs. Asenath was not visible. He waited for her to 
 appear, but as she did not do so, he undressed slowly 
 and got into his bed without extinguishing the light. 
 
 He lay there for about ten minutes awaiting her, but 
 she did not come. He found himself feeling annoyed 
 at what he was ready to call a silly, childish obstinacy, 
 but his annoyance at her behavior was not an unmixed 
 emotion. He was sorry for her. He knew that something 
 much out of the ordinary must have occurred to have 
 so thoroughly ruffled her usual serenity. As the minutes 
 passed and she did not come, he was tempted to go to 
 sleep or, at least, to feign sleep and await the morning 
 for an explanation. But he could not do it. His conscience
 
 THE CHOICE 
 
 was not perfectly at ease. He should not have remained 
 so long with Louise. He had not been perfectly frank 
 about the matter of the night school. But such thoughts 
 were silly; what had they to do with her treating him 
 in this way? 
 
 He got out of bed and walked over to the door of 
 Asenath's dressing room, intending to enter to see what 
 was keeping her. But he did not open the door. He 
 knocked and received no answer. Then he asked if he 
 might come in and, again, there was no answer. 
 
 He opened the door gently and peered in. Asenath 
 was in her chair in front of her dressing table with her 
 head buried in her arms. She was weeping quietly, her 
 body shaking with her sobs. For a moment Harold 
 stood by the door, awaiting some sign from her which 
 would indicate that she was aware of his presence. 
 But none came. At last he called to her quietly: 
 
 "Asenath." 
 
 There was still no answer, unless a new access of 
 tears might be so described. Harold was becoming 
 more impatient. He went over to her and put his arm 
 on her shoulder. 
 
 "Asenath," he said. "What on earth is the matter 
 with you?" 
 
 And still no answer. He felt his anger rising beyond 
 control. 
 
 "Asenath," hecried, "get up from there and gotobed." 
 
 She got up and, with her face still hidden, walked
 
 THE CHOICE 345 
 
 out of the dressing room into the bedroom and got into 
 her bed. Harold extinguished the light and followed her 
 into the bedroom. Then he seated himself on a chair 
 beside her bed and spoke to her. 
 
 "Asenath, I insist that you tell me immediately 
 what you are crying about. I don't know what to 
 make of you. Ever since we left Wallace's you have 
 been moping and now you are crying as though some 
 dreadful misfortune had befallen you, and, when I 
 speak to you, you won't answer." 
 
 This time Asenath found her voice. 
 
 "Oh! I wish I was dead," she said between sobs. 
 
 "What is the matter? I insist on knowing." 
 
 "You know very well." 
 
 "I know? What are you talking about?" 
 
 "I wish you had never married me. If it wasn't for 
 little Tommy, I'd run away from you." 
 
 "Asenath, won't you please come to your senses. 
 You talk like an ignorant little fool." 
 
 The answer to this was a fresh outburst. In scarcely 
 recognizable phrase, so choked with tears was she, she 
 cried: 
 
 "That's just what's the matter. I am an ignorant 
 little fool, and you're tired of me. You go out in the 
 evenings to that old night school because you're tired 
 of me" 
 
 "Asenath!" he almost shouted. "You're beside your- 
 self. You don't know what you're saying."
 
 346 THE CHOICE 
 
 "Yes, I do. And tonight you went off with that 
 hateful Louise Graham who's always mean to me, and 
 stuck with her the whole evening. Oh!" She wept with 
 redoubled energy. 
 
 Harold was outwardly calm now, although inwardly 
 he was quite the reverse. He saw that she was excited, 
 much more so than he had ever known her to be, and 
 that she must be quieted. 
 
 "Listen, Asenath," he said, taking her hand and 
 stroking it. "I don't know where you got your ideas, 
 but they're all wrong. Will you listen to me?" 
 
 Asenath's head, which was buried face down in the 
 pillow, nodded assent. Harold went on: 
 
 "If I had had any idea that you were displeased 
 because I resumed my teaching, I wouldn't have done 
 it. You remember I asked you. But it's not too late, I 
 can stop immediately, and I will." His voice was 
 kindness itself and its effect was seen in a material 
 subsidence of her emotion. 
 
 "As for my being tired of you, my dear," he went on, 
 "that's ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. And as for Louise 
 Graham, she can she can go to Hell for all I care." 
 And he meant it, too. 
 
 "Come, Asenath," he said, leaning over to her and 
 putting his arm around her neck, "you didn't mean 
 what you said, did you?" He drew her head out of the 
 pillow and turned her face towards him. She turned her 
 body, and laid her head on his shoulder.
 
 THE CHOICE 347 
 
 "Oh! Harold," she said. But that was all. She could 
 go no further. 
 
 "You didn't mean what you said, did you?" he 
 repeated. He saw that she was over the spell of weeping 
 and that she would soon be in a normal state. He 
 was no longer angry with her. He felt only a great 
 tenderness, a great love for her. After all, she had not 
 been in the wrong, it was he and he knew it. But his 
 gentleness, his touch had done for Asenath what no 
 amount of reasoning could have brought about. It 
 made her feel guilty; it made her feel that he was the 
 injured one; it made her wish to humiliate herself. 
 
 "Oh! Harold," she said at length, "can you ever 
 forgive me?" 
 
 "Don't talk of my forgiving you," he answered; 
 "you've done nothing wrong." 
 
 "Oh! but I have. I lost my temper, and I said dreadful 
 things. Can you ever forgive me?" 
 
 "Don't let's talk about it any more. Let's forget all 
 about it. Let's forget everything except that we love 
 one another." And his lips met hers in a long, passionate 
 
 kiss. 
 
 "Oh! Harold," she sighed at last, "you're so good 
 
 to me."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 EG after her regular breathing indicated that 
 Asenath was in a sound slumber, Harold lay in 
 his bed wide awake. He attempted to woo 
 sleep in all of the traditional ways, but with no success. 
 It was a most unusual occurrence. Ordinarily he was 
 asleep almost the instant his head touched the pillow. 
 
 He could not account for it at all. It seemed so foolish, 
 so unnecessary; it was most annoying. As his annoyance 
 mounted, his wakefulness increased, and, presently, 
 he found it impossible to stay in bed. 
 
 He got up softly so as not to disturb Asenath, and, 
 putting on a pair of slippers and a bath robe, went 
 into the library, turned on the light and took up the 
 book he happened to be reading. But he was not 
 interested. He could not fix his mind on the words 
 before him. He was restless, almost as uncomfortable 
 as he had been while in bed. 
 
 He laid the book down and walked to and fro across 
 the room a few times. Fearing that the sound of his 
 steps might disturb Asenath, he again sat down. 
 
 This time he made no attempt to read. Instead he 
 pondered the events of the evening through which he 
 had just passed. He wondered what on earth could 
 have been responsible /or Asenath's outburst. Surely 
 
 348
 
 THE CHOICE 349 
 
 it was unlike her to find any wrong in him. He was 
 fully aware that, with her, his will was not only law, 
 but that, in addition, the mere fact that it had been 
 enunciated by him made it wholly admirable. She 
 had never said so, but the year and over which they had 
 lived together had shown it to him more convincingly 
 than was possible by words. 
 
 Where then was the moving cause? What had started 
 it? He was sure that Asenath had not been nursing a 
 grudge against him on account of his having resumed 
 his teaching. Of course, she could not help noticing 
 that he was now willing again to take up work which 
 he had relinquished in order to be as much in her 
 company as possible. But she had not shown that she 
 resented it. On the contrary, she had made it a practice 
 to wait up for him on each of the evenings he was 
 away and her greeting had always been fully as affec- 
 tionate as ever. 
 
 Could it have begun because Louise and he had been 
 so long together away from Asenath and Wallace? 
 Perhaps, but it was not likely. She had never shown 
 any resentment at his having done the same thing with 
 other women. 
 
 With others? Ah! that was it. And now he believed 
 he saw it all clearly. Asenath had not wanted to renew 
 her acquaintance with Louise. The two girls were 
 distinctly antipathetic. She went to Grahams' house 
 practically under protest. And then Louise's talking
 
 350 THE CHOICE 
 
 down to Asenath's level, making it obvious to the two 
 men to what ordinary, commonplace topics Asenath's 
 conversation was restricted, had fanned the slumbering 
 embers, and his going into another room with Louise 
 had caused them to burst into flame. 
 
 That was it and it was silly and unreasonable. He 
 felt as though she had done him an injury. Was he 
 always to be thus hampered? Was it not enough that 
 she was unable to meet him on any kind of an intel- 
 lectual basis? Must he always have to reckon on her 
 childishness? 
 
 And then he thought of their reconciliation and how 
 it had been accomplished. They had not discussed 
 their differences like two sensible people. They had 
 not come together reasonably and learned their recip- 
 rocal viewpoints. No, they had come together, male and 
 female, following not reason but instinct. He despised 
 himself, but he also despised her. 
 
 And then he found himself angry, incapable of clear, 
 consecutive thought. The same ideas returned con- 
 stantly to his mind in a dull, stupid round. 
 
 He got up and went back to their room and into his 
 bed. Once more he was going over the same matter, 
 in much the same way, and then he fell asleep. 
 
 But his sleep was not his regular sound slumber by 
 any means. He half awoke from time to time and then 
 fell again into a restless sleep. Once during the night 
 he heard Asenath arise and take the baby, who had
 
 THE CHOICE 351 
 
 awakened, but he gave no sign and was again asleep 
 before Asenath returned to her bed. 
 
 It was their custom to lie abed on Sunday morning 
 until quite a late hour, but this morning Harold was 
 wide awake by seven o'clock. Wide awake, but not rested. 
 His perturbation of the night before was still upon him. 
 
 He determined to get up and take a walk before 
 breakfast in order to clear his head. He arose noiselessly, 
 made his usual morning toilet with precaution, so as 
 not to disturb either Asenath or the baby, and by 
 seven-thirty he let himself quietly out of the front 
 door, having left a hastily scribbled note for Asenath, 
 to acquaint her with what he was doing. 
 
 It was a fine, cold morning. The sun was just peeping 
 over the horizon. A thin coating of frozen snow lay 
 on the empty street. He walked briskly, inhaling the 
 chill air with zest. He had not gone three blocks before 
 he began to feel better and, by the time he had traversed 
 six, he was himself again. 
 
 He made no effort to direct his thoughts but allowed 
 them to come as they would. He noted little things as 
 they came into view, things he had seen so many times 
 before, in the preoccupation which usually controlled 
 him, that he had never noticed them: the white 
 shutters of a Colonial house of some pretension, the 
 tiled roof of a house in the Spanish style. He did not 
 think of them, they merely entered his consciousness 
 and made him aware of his own perception.
 
 352 THE CHOICE 
 
 He covered more than a mile in this way and then 
 again his thought reverted to last night. But he was 
 now calm. He could see things in their proper light. 
 He could weigh and measure with justice and equity. 
 
 He had married Asenath. That much was plain. He 
 had misjudged her. Because he enjoyed being with her, 
 because she had shown pleasure in his presence, because, 
 in some unaccountable way, they had been mutually 
 attracted, he had never really made any question as to 
 her fitness to be his wife. He had had no thought of 
 marriage at all at the beginning. He was simply charmed 
 by her. Even then, in view of her almost complete 
 ignorance, he had fatuously believed that he could 
 educate her, could bring her up to his standard. And 
 for what? So that she might be above the people of her 
 own intellectual plane; so that she might despise those 
 whom, under ordinary circumstances, she would have 
 welcomed. No; he had not thought of that, he had 
 blindly tried to educate her for himself. He did not 
 know it, because his wisdom, moderate as it was, 
 would have rejected the idea; he did it because some- 
 thing in him wanted her and wanted her to be dressed 
 up in the trappings of the mind which were suited to 
 his own. He thought she had a good mind requiring 
 only cultivation. Why? Because he wanted to think she 
 had a good mind, because he wanted her and his pride 
 forbade his acceptance of her without this credential. 
 What was all of his education worth, what good were
 
 THE CHOICE 353 
 
 all of his previous associations, his standards, if they 
 were to be hoodwinked by something in him which was 
 stronger than his judgment; which, in the most im- 
 portant decision that one can make in life, could set 
 aside everything, or worse, was able to misrepresent 
 everything which stood in its way? Was it then pure 
 sex which had attracted him? Could it be as primitive 
 as that? No; for that would have cast him at the feet 
 of the first woman he met and that was certainly not 
 his case. 
 
 No, it was finer than that. It must be, for he had met 
 many girls, he had even been sought by them and had 
 rather avoided them or, at least, had held them at 
 arm's length. No, it was not mere sex, but sex as 
 personified by Asenath. From the very beginning, from 
 their first day in the country, that morning at the 
 brook, she had drawn him, she had been desirable in 
 his eyes. And then, when he had met her and learned 
 that she was the fiancee of James Rawlings, he had had 
 a lively sense of regret, of personal loss. With what 
 alacrity he had seized the opportunity to visit her 
 when he learned that her engagement had been broken. 
 And from then on, it had been one continuous desire, 
 ever broadening, ever deepening, until it had culminated 
 in their sudden marriage. 
 
 And even then he had not perceived her limitations. 
 In the greatness of his passion for her, he had been 
 blind. It seemed as though this passion had been able
 
 354 THE CHOICE 
 
 to monopolize him, to set aside the regular course of 
 his life; to take the place, temporarily at least, of the 
 interests which had always been his. And now these 
 interests claimed their place and passion was relegated 
 to its own. Now he could see Asenath as she was; 
 beautiful, affectionate, faithful, true, but limited 
 intellectually. She had neither the mind nor even the 
 desire for knowledge. She had good taste, almost perfect 
 taste, in all matters aesthetic, but, beyond the simplest 
 abstractions, her mind would not go. 
 
 And this was to be his companion for the rest of his 
 life. This had been his choice. But had it been his 
 choice? Was it he that had selected her or was it some- 
 thing stronger, something which overruled his judg- 
 ment? Instinct? 
 
 And supposing that he had used his judgment, how 
 would he have chosen? Would it have been someone 
 like Louise? He almost shuddered at the thought. He 
 thought of his father and mother, of their perfect 
 harmony, based on different but equally fine minds, 
 on sturdy characters both, and wondered how they had 
 chosen. Was that intelligent selection or was it merely 
 good fortune? 
 
 But, he thought, what was the use of all of this, 
 except as a mere matter of academic interest? The fact 
 remained that he was married to Asenath. That was 
 actuality. That must be faced. That must be worked 
 out.
 
 THE CHOICE 355 
 
 Not by relinquishing what was his own, such as his 
 teaching. That was worth while, and Asenath would be 
 sure to see that whatever sacrifice it meant to her was 
 justified by the worthiness of the cause. He would 
 follow his intellectual bent, but he would recognize to 
 the best of his ability her rights as well. He would 
 give to her what she wanted, and he would give it 
 willingly, ungrudgingly. She should have her share 
 and he would have his. 
 
 They had much in common after all. Intellectual 
 pursuits were not everything. There were the arts, 
 music, pictures, which they might share. Perhaps it 
 was even better that he should have interests apart 
 from hers, that his own particular activities were 
 independent. It might be much better for her to be 
 apart from his work. Who could tell? 
 
 After all, she was not captious, but, instead, was 
 perfectly reasonable. He could have done much worse. 
 He would never, if he could help it, let her see that she 
 was not all he had expected. 
 
 A sudden feeling of hunger awakened him to the 
 fact that it was nearly time for their breakfast. He 
 turned about and made for the nearest car. Twenty 
 minutes later he had reached his house. The maid was 
 just taking in the morning newspaper. 
 
 He walked upstairs without noise, and, as he reached 
 the landing, he saw Asenath with the baby in her 
 arms, unconscious of his presence. Never had she
 
 356 THE CHOICE 
 
 seemed so beautiful. The holy pride of the mother in 
 her child glorified her, and, in a great wave of emotion, 
 Harold felt the strength of his love for her newly born. 
 She was his wife and the mother of his child. And he 
 was humbly grateful. 
 
 THE END
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 051 707 8