At that moment Huntington wondered how Marian Seymour could ever have attracted him. He had told Hamlen that the alchemy of a woman's heart was past his comprehension, but he had believed that mothers' hearts were all the same. He knew that Mrs. Thatcher was devoted to her daughter, yet her insistence appeared to him inexplicable and reprehensible. Had his companion been a man he would have told him so; under the present circumstances he spoke more guardedly.
"Being friends and allies, we should be frank in expressing our conviction," he explained; "this must excuse my otherwise unwarranted objections."
"You know Merry now. Don't you agree with me that her interest is in men older than herself?"
"Has she been consulted?"
Mrs. Thatcher flushed. "No," she answered; "I shall not speak to her until Philip Hamlen has been persuaded."
"You think she will acquiesce?"
"I am sure of it. She may not understand at first, but I am certain that she will feel as I do. Who could fail to see that he would be an ideal husband for her?"
"What would your life have been if you had married Hamlen?"
"But he has changed,—he has learned much from his experience."
"He is still, and always will be an abnormal personality," Huntington insisted. "Marriage, in my opinion, has no place in his life, and no woman could possibly endure his eccentricities. He can still find much to interest him among men, but I beg of you not to pursue an experiment which contains so many elements of danger."