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“I think so. That is, relatively speaking, and provided I understand correctly what you mean.”

She had not resumed her work, and her eager, resolute expression indicated that she was preparing to push the conversation to a more crucial point.

“I suppose what I mean is, would you, if we were going to start over again, do just as you have–devote yourself to science?”

“Oh!” Morgan flushed. “I don’t see the use of considering that conundrum. I have devoted myself to science and there is no help for it, even if I were dissatisfied.”

“No present help.”

“No help at any time, Edna. But why resurrect this ghost? We burned our bridges at the altar.”

“We did. And don’t misunderstand me, dear. I’m not flinching, I’m not even regretting, as I said to you before. Perhaps it may seem to you brutal–which is worse than Casaubonish–to ask you such a question. Still, we’re husband and wife, and on an anniversary like this why isn’t it sensible to look matters squarely in the face, and consider whether we’ve been wise or not? You ask the use. Are we not both seeking the truth?”

“Just as a tradesman takes an account of stock to ascertain whether he is bankrupt. I suppose you are thinking of the children and–and you admitted that you are a little tired yourself.”

“I wasn’t thinking of any one. I was simply considering the question as an abstract proposition–by the light, of course, of our experience.”

“It is hard for you, Edna; yes, it is hard. I often think of it.”

“But I shouldn’t mind its being hard if I were sure we were wise–justified.”

Morgan leaned toward her and said with grave intensity, “How, dear, are the great truths of science to be ascertained unless men–men and their wives–are willing to delve lovingly, to sacrifice comforts, and even endure hardships in pursuit of them?”

Edna drew a deep breath. “But you must answer me a question. How are children to be educated, and their minds, bodies, and manners guarded and formed in the ideal way on a small income such as ours?”

“I thought it was the children.”

“It isn’t merely the children. It’s myself and you–you, Morgan. It breaks my heart to see you pale, thin, and tired most of the time. You like good food and we can’t afford to keep a decent cook. You have to consider every cent you spend, and the consequence is you have no amusement, and if you take a vacation, it is at some cheap place where you are thoroughly uncomfortable. And, of course, it is the children, too. If you, with your talents had gone into business or followed medicine or the law, like your friend Mr. Randall, we should have an income by this time which–well, for one thing, we should be able to keep the children at the seaside until October, and for another have Ernest’s teeth straightened.”

“Perhaps I can manage both of those, as it is. But, Edna, what’s the advantage of considering what might have been? Besides, you haven’t answered my question.”

“I know it,” she said slowly. “You mustn’t misunderstand me, Morgan. I’m very proud of you, and I appreciate fully your talent, your self-sacrifice, and your modesty. I thought you entirely right the other day in repulsing that odious reporter who wished to make a public character of you before you were ready. I’m content to wait–to wait forever, and I shall be happy in waiting. But, on the other hand, I’ve never been afraid to face the truth. It’s my way. I’ve done so all my life; and my growth mentally and morally has come through my willingness to acknowledge my mistakes. Every one says it is fine for other people to starve for the sake of discovery, but how few are willing to do it themselves! If we were in a book, the world would admire us, but sometimes I can’t help wondering if we would not be happier and more satisfactory human products if you had done something which brought you rewards more commensurate with your abilities. I’m merely thinking aloud, Morgan. I’m intensely interested, as you know, in the problems of life, and this is one of them.”