It is true that Jack had had other ideas when he was courting Edith Fletcher, and at moments, at any rate, different aspirations from any he had now.  With her at that time there had been nobler aspirations about life.  But now she was his wife.  That was settled.  And not only that, but she was the best woman he knew; and if she were not his wife, he would spare no effort to win her.  He felt sure of that.  He did not put it to himself in the way an Oriental would do, “That is finished”; but it was an act done—­a good act—­and here was his world again, with a hundred interests, and there were people besides Edith to be thought of, other women and men, and affairs.  Because a man was married, was he to be shut up to one little narrow career, that of husband?  Probably it did not occur to him that women take a different view of this in the singleness of their purpose and faith.  Edith, for instance, knew or guessed that Jack had no purpose in life that was twenty-four hours old; but she had faith—­and no amount of observation destroys this faith in women—­that marriage would inspire him with energy and ambition to take a man’s place in the world.

With most men marriage is un fait accompli.  Jack had been lucky, but there was, no doubt, truth in an observation of Mavick’s.  One night as they sat at the club Jack had asked him a leading question, apropos of Henderson’s successful career:  “Mavick, why don’t you get married?” “I have never,” he replied, with his usual cynical deliberation, “been obliged to.  The fact is, marriage is a curb-bit.  Some horses show off better with it, and some are enraged and kick over the traces.  I cannot decide which I would be.”

“That’s true enough,” said Jack, “from a bachelor’s point of view of independence, but it’s really a question of matching.”

“The most difficult thing in the world—­in horses.  Just about impossible in temperament and movement, let alone looks.  Most men are lucky if they get, like Henderson, a running mate.”

“I see,” said Jack, who knew something about the Henderson household, “your idea of a pair is that they should go single.”

Mavick laughed, and said something about the ideas of women changing so much lately that nobody could tell what the relation of marriage would become, and Jack, who began to feel that he was disloyal, changed the subject.  To do him justice, he would have been ashamed for Edith to hear this sort of flippant and shallow talk, which wouldn’t have been at all out of place with Carmen or Miss Tavish.

“I wanted to ask you, Mavick, as a friend, do you think Henderson is square?”

“How square?”

“Well, safe?”

“Nobody is safe.  Henderson is as safe as anybody.  You can rely on what he says.  But there’s a good deal he doesn’t say.  Anything wrong?”

“Not that I know.  I’ve been pretty lucky.  But the fact is, I’ve gone in rather deep.”

“Well, it’s a game.  Henderson plays it, as everybody does, for himself.  I like Henderson.  He plays to win, and generally does.  But, you know, if one man wins, somebody else has got to lose in this kind of industry.”