As time went on, it became increasingly clear to Mary that Wally wasn’t happy—­that the “one great thing in life” for him was turning out badly.  Never had a Jason sailed forth with greater determination to find the Golden Fleece of Happiness, but with every passing week he seemed to be further than ever from the winning of his prize.

Mary turned it over in her mind for a long time before she found a clue to the answer.

“I believe it’s because Helen has nothing useful to occupy her mind,” she thought one day; and more quickly than words can describe the fancy, she seemed to see the wives at each end of the social scale—­each group engaged from morning till night on a never-ending round of unproductive activities, walkers of treadmills, drudges of want and wealth.

“They are in just the same fix—­the very rich and the very poor,” she thought, “grinding away all day and getting nowhere—­never satisfied—­never happy—­because way down in their hearts they know they’re not doing anything useful—­not doing anything that counts—­”

Her mind returned to Helen’s case.

“I’m sure that’s it,” she nodded.  “Helen hasn’t found happiness, so she goes out looking for it, and never thinks of trying the only thing that would help her.  Yes, and I believe that’s why so many rich people have divorces.  When you come to think of it, you hardly ever heard of divorces during the war—­because for the first time in their lives a lot of people were doing something useful—­”

Hesitating then she asked herself if she ought not to speak to Helen.

“I didn’t get any thanks the last time I tried it,” she ruefully remarked.  “But perhaps if I used an awful lot of tact—­”

She had her chance that afternoon when Helen dropped in at the office on her way back from the city.

“Shopping—­all day—­tired to death,” she said, sinking into the chair by the side of the desk.  “How are you getting on?”

Mary felt like replying, “Very well, thank you....  But how are you getting on, Helen?.... you and Wally?”

Somehow, though, it sounded dreadful, even to hint that everything wasn’t as it should be between Wally and his wife.

“Besides,” thought Mary, “she’d only say, ‘Oh, all right,’ and yawn and change the subject—­and what could I do then?” She answered herself, “Nothing,” and thoughtfully added, “It will take a lot of tact.”

Indeed there are some topics which require so much tact in their presentation that the article becomes lost in its wrappings, and its presence isn’t even suspected by the recipient.

“How’s Wally?” asked Mary.

“Oh, he’s all right.”

“When I saw him the other day, I thought he was looking a bit under.”

“Oh, I don’t know—­”

As Mary had guessed, Helen patted her hand over her mouth to hide a yawn.  “How’s Aunt Patty and Aunt Cordelia?” she asked.

Mary sighed to herself.