“And I’d like to be aboard the most palatial steamer that floats, and ride past you, on my way to great cities.”
“I’d be happiest,” he said.
“I’d be—most excited,” she replied.
“The most pitifully bored faces in the world are to be seen in Broadway cafes after midnight.”
“But don’t you like to be where things are flashing? Where life is moving so fast you can hardly follow it? Doesn’t it spell happiness for you to be where a new thrill is always at hand for the asking?”
“That sort of thing is bully for dessert, but I want it after a long, satisfying meal of quiet contentment.”
“Such as you have in Diversity?”
“Such as can be had in Diversity,” he replied.
“What makes contentment? I should like to have it.”
“Contentment,” he said, slowly, selecting his words cautiously, “means to me the quiet feeling of decency and satisfaction and restfulness that comes to a man who is busy with a worth-while job. To have it fully there must be a home, a real home with a wife in it, and lads, and a dog and cat. All of them must be glad to see you come home at night, and sorry to see you leave in the morning. To have it your wife must believe in you more than you deserve, and you must trust her, and confide in her, and advise with her on all your concerns, sure of her interest. Yes, I think that is the indispensable element—marriage. The right sort of marriage—the sort the majority of folks are blessed with.”