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“All I can say is we weren’t No doubt it’s remarkable. We managed very well,–that is, I managed,–he did n’t want to manage at all. And then, father and mother are incredibly stupid!”

Mrs. Portico exhaled a comprehensive moan, feeling glad, on the whole, that she had n’t a daughter, while Georgina went on to furnish a few more details. Raymond Benyon, in the summer, had been ordered from Brooklyn to Charlestown, near Boston, where, as Mrs. Portico perhaps knew, there was another navy-yard, in which there was a temporary press of work, requiring more oversight He had remained there several months, during which he had written to her urgently to come to him, and during which, as well, he had received notice that he was to rejoin his ship a little later. Before doing so he came back to Brooklyn for a few weeks to wind up his work there, and then she had seen him–well, pretty often. That was the best time of all the year that had elapsed since their marriage. It was a wonder at home that nothing had then been guessed; because she had really been reckless, and Benyon had even tried to force on a disclosure. But they were stupid, that was very certain. He had besought her again and again to put an end to their false position, but she did n’t want it any more than she had wanted it before. They had rather a bad parting; in fact, for a pair of lovers, it was a very queer parting indeed. He did n’t know, now, the thing she had come to tell Mrs. Portico. She had not written to him. He was on a very long cruise. It might be two years before he returned to the United States. “I don’t care how long he stays away,” Georgina said, very simply.

“You haven’t mentioned why you married him. Perhaps you don’t remember,” Mrs. Portico broke out, with her masculine laugh.

“Oh, yes; I loved him!”

“And you have got over that?”

Georgina hesitated a moment. “Why, no, Mrs. Portico, of course I haven’t; Raymond’s a splendid fellow.”

“Then why don’t you live with him? You don’t explain that.”

“What would be the use when he’s always away? How can one live with a man that spends half his life in the South Seas? If he was n’t in the navy it would be different; but to go through everything,–I mean everything that making our marriage known would bring upon me,–the scolding and the exposure and the ridicule, the scenes at home,–to go through it all, just for the idea, and yet be alone here, just as I was before, without my husband after all,–with none of the good of him,”–and here Georgina looked at her hostess as if with the certitude that such an enumeration of inconveniences would touch her effectually,–“really, Mrs. Portico, I am bound to say I don’t think that would be worth while; I haven’t the courage for it.”

“I never thought you were a coward,” said Mrs. Portico.

“Well, I am not,–if you will give me time. I am very patient.”

“I never thought that, either.”

“Marrying changes one,” said Georgina, still smiling.

“It certainly seems to have had a very peculiar effect upon you. Why don’t you make him leave the navy, and arrange your life comfortably, like every one else?”

“I would n’t for the world interfere with his prospects–with his promotion. That is sure to come for him, and to come quickly, he has such talents. He is devoted to his profession; it would ruin him to leave it.”

“My dear young woman, you are a wonderful creature!” Mrs. Portico exclaimed, looking at her companion as if she had been in a glass case.

“So poor Raymond says,” Georgina answered, smiling more than ever.

“Certainly, I should have been very sorry to marry a navy man; but if I had married him, I should stick to him, in the face of all the scoldings in the universe!”