For the present, however, he lived an uneventful life with his widowed mother in a charming old house, surrounded by a walled garden, in Franklin Street.  Like the house, he was always in perfect order; and everything about him, from his loosely fitting clothes and his immaculate linen to his inherited conceptions of life, was arranged with such exquisite precision that it was impossible to improve it in any way.  He knew exactly what he thought, and he knew also his reason, which was usually a precedent in law or custom, for thinking as he did.  His opinions, which were both active and abundant, were all perfectly legitimate descendants of tradition, and the phrase “nobody ever heard of such a thing,” was quite as convincing to him as to Mrs. Carr or to Cousin Jimmy Wrenn.

“Gabriella, aren’t you going?” he asked reproachfully as the girl entered.

“Oh, Arthur, we’ve had such a dreadful day!  Poor Jane has left Charley for good and has come home, with all the children.  We’ve been busy dividing them among us, and we’re going to turn the dining-room into a nursery.

“Left Charley?  That’s bad, isn’t it?” asked Arthur doubtfully.

“I feel so sorry for her, Arthur.  It must be terrible to have love end like that.”

“But she isn’t to blame.  Everybody knows that she has forgiven him again and again.”

“Yes, everybody knows it,” repeated Gabriella, as if she drew bitter comfort from the knowledge, “and she says now that she will never, never go back to him.”

For the first time a shadow appeared in Arthur’s clear eyes.

“Do you think she ought to make up her mind, darling, until she sees whether or not he will reform?  After all, she is his wife.”

“That’s what mother says, and yet I believe Charley is the only person on earth mother really hates.  Now Cousin Jimmy and I will do everything we can to keep her away from him.”

“I think I shouldn’t meddle if I were you, dearest.  She’ll probably go back to him in the end because of the children.

“But I am going to help her take care of the children,” replied Gabriella stanchly.  “Of course, my life will be entirely different now, Arthur,” she added gently.  “Everything is altered for me, too, since yesterday.  I have thought it all over for hours, and I am going to try to get a place in Brandywine’s store.”

“In a store?” repeated Arthur slowly, and she saw the muscles of his mouth tighten and grow rigid.

“Mother doesn’t like the idea any more than you do, but what are we to come to if we go on in the old aimless way?  One can’t make a living out of plain sewing, and though, of course, Charley will be supposed to provide for his children, he isn’t exactly the sort one can count on.  Brandywine’s, you see, is only a beginning.  What I mean is that I am obliged to learn how to support myself.”

“But couldn’t you work just as well in your home, darling?