the future generations.  But all that was in the future, he argued, while here was a case which had gone so far that “letting in the light” could only blast the life of two people, making it impossible for a young mother ever again to tolerate the father of her child.  I argued that Sylvia was not of the hysterical type, but I could not make him agree that it was possible to predict what the attitude of any woman would be.  His ideas were based on one peculiar experience he had had—­a woman patient who had said to him:  “Doctor, I know what is the matter with me, but for God’s sake don’t let my husband find out that I know, because then I should feel that my self-respect required me to leave him!”

23.  The Master-of-the-House was coming!  You could feel the quiver of excitement in the air of the place.  The boatmen were polishing the brasses of the launch; the yard-man was raking up the dry strips of palm from beneath the cocoanut trees; Aunt Varina was ordering new supplies, and entering into conspiracies with the cook.  The nurses asked me timidly, what was He like, and even Dr. Gibson, a testy old gentleman who had clashed violently with me on the subject of woman’s suffrage, and had avoided me ever since as a suspicious character, now came and confided his troubles.  He had sent home for a trunk, and the graceless express companies had sent it astray.  Now he was wondering if it was necessary for him to journey to Key West and have a suit of dinner clothes made over night.  I told him that I had not sent for any party-dresses, and that I expected to meet Mr. Douglas van Tuiver at his dinner-table in plain white linen.  His surprise was so great that I suspected the old gentleman of having wondered whether I meant to retire to a “second-table” when the Master-of-the-House arrived.

I went away by myself, seething with wrath.  Who was this great one whom we honoured?  Was he an inspired poet, a maker of laws, a discoverer of truth?  He was the owner of an indefinite number of millions of dollars—­that was all, and yet I was expected, because of my awe of him, to abandon the cherished convictions of my lifetime.  The situation was one that challenged my fighting blood.  This was the hour to prove whether I really meant the things I talked.

On the morning of the day that van Tuiver was expected, I went early to Aunt Varina’s room.  She was going in the launch, and was in a state of flustration, occupied in putting on her best false hair.  “Mrs. Tuis,” I said, “I want you to let me go to meet Mr. van Tuiver instead of you.”

I will not stop to report the good lady’s outcries.  I did not care, I said, whether it was proper, nor did I care whether, as she finally hinted, it might not be agreeable to Mr. van Tuiver.  I was sorry to have to thrust myself upon him, but I was determined to go, and would let nothing prevent me.  And all at once she yielded, rather surprising me by the suddenness of it.  I suppose she concluded that van Tuiver was the man to handle me, and the quicker he got at it the better.