"But after that good-by to-night," she persisted, "I know he loves her."
"I hope he does, Mary, and that she cares for him. I don't see how she could help it. I'd like to see them happy,—as happy as you and I are, Mary."
He leaned toward her, resting his cheek against hers.
"As happy as we are, Beloved. Twenty years married. Am I right? And lovers still."
"Yes, twenty happy years," she said, "twenty happy years. But, John, do you think Miss Bright would make Kenneth happy? Would she give up her philanthropic ideas to devote herself to one ordinary man?"
"Oh, that's what's troubling you now, is it?" he asked, laughing outright. Then he spoke seriously:
"I believe Miss Bright could and would make Kenneth supremely happy. You know she is domestic in her tastes, and I believe home would always be her first consideration. But she is such a broad, public spirited woman she would always be a public benefactor. And Kenneth is not an ordinary man. You know that well. He is superior. I do not know of any man for whom I have such a strong friendship."
"I like Kenneth, too," she admitted. "But I was just thinking."
He rose and covered the embers for the night.
"Better leave them alone," he suggested. "Their story is so beautiful I'd not like to have it spoiled."