"'No.'
"'Thank Heaven.'
"Dan kissed me, regardless of the accusing eyes of my husband in the background."
Carol breathed loudly in her relief. He kissed her. Connie did not care. They were engaged.
"Dan breathlessly took back everything he ever said about getting married, and being a bachelor, and so forth. He said he was crazy to be married, always had been, but didn't find it out before. He said he had always adored me. And I drew out my note-book, and showed him the first page,—Doctor Daniel Brooks, O. K. And every other name in the book was checked off.
"Dan was jubilant." Connie's voice trailed away slowly, and her earnest fine eyes were cloudy.
"An engagement," cried Carol, springing up.
"No," said Connie slowly, "a blunder."
"A blunder," faltered Carol, falling back. "You did it on purpose to make him propose, didn't you?"
"Yes, and he proposed, and we were engaged. But it was just a blunder. It was not Dan I wanted. Carol, every woman feels like that at times. She is full of that great magnificent ideal of home, and husband, and little children. It seems the finest thing in the world, the only flawless life. She can't resist it, for the time being. She feels that work is silly, that success is tawdry, that ambition is wicked. It is dangerous, Carol, for if she gets the opportunity, or if she can make the opportunity, she is pretty sure to seize it. I believe that is why so many marriages are unhappy,—girls mistake that natural woman-wish for love, and they get married, and then—shipwreck."