"You believe in mercenary marriages, then?" he said irritably.
"No, but I believe in staying in the same society in which you belong. I don't want to be cruel, but Miss Charters is of another world. I know there is nothing against her. She may be able to enter your world, and then again she may not want to—may prefer the freedom of her own, and you will follow her. Have you thought of that? Your friends must be your wife's friends, or you will give them up. Marriage, Teddy, which can be the most decisive act in a man's life, is the one he throws away the most lightly. I'm only afraid you may wake up to what you might have done, Teddy. You are young, eager, you are not yet bored. You may feel the desire to be something, to do something that counts in your life. I don't want you then to wake up and realize that another marriage might have given you the connections you wanted, the added opportunity. At this moment marriage appears to you the only thing that counts; you will realize some day that it is the least thing in it." She smiled, as he looked amazed, and added: "No amount of discussion can make you understand these things—they must be lived. But, Teddy, before you leap, ask yourself seriously what you are worth."
When he left Mrs. Fontaine's presence, he did so with lagging steps. The advice of these three women, so various and viewing life from such divergent points of view, profoundly impressed him. He tried to argue against what had been told him, and as this process irritated him beyond measure, he broke off, acknowledging their superior insight. But all at once he stopped short, enlightened by a sudden reflection.
"If what they say is true ... why did they all marry?"
This answer, which might seem no answer at all, appeared to the mind of the lover, which is to say to the mind seeking to be convinced, so complete and startling a refutation, that he swung on his heel, and went directly to offer himself to Miss Charters.
EPILOGUE
Three years after the close of these events there were gathered in a box of the Metropolitan Opera, Mr. and Mrs. Gunther, senior, the Teddy Beechers, Bruce Gunther and a Miss Clarice Fanning, of the Virginia Fannings, a young girl demure, direct, with already in the youthful instincts of her pose more than a suggestion of the dignity and elegance which would come to grace the woman. From time to time, by a little movement of her fan, she brought to her shoulder for a whispered comment Bruce Gunther, who, though he had seated himself behind Mrs. Beecher, was compensated by the advantage of thus exchanging glances. All these little messages, which the young girl flattered herself were so cleverly executed as to remain invisible, were seen by every one in the box with discreet enjoyment.
At the end of the act the two young men excused themselves and departed to make a round of visits.
"Nan's charming, Ted," said Gunther, who saw them both for the first time since their long stay in Europe. He added with the extra enthusiasm with which a man of the world conveys his surprise at an unexpected development: "By George! she has the manners of a duchess! The governor, crabby old critic, too, is quite won over by her."
"She has developed beautifully," said Beecher, with a certain proprietary responsibility which young husbands feel deeply. "She is a remarkable woman! ... remarkable!"