worrying you, Bailey?” 

 “Is it nothing,” demanded her brother, “that my sister should have spoken to a man as you spoke to Clarence Grayling?” 

 With an impassioned gesture he sent a flower-vase crashing to the floor. 

 “I told you so,” said Ruth. “Pick up the bits, and don’t let the water spoil the carpet. Use your handkerchief. I should say that that would cost you about six dollars, dear. Why will you let yourself be so temperamental? Now let me try and think what it was I said to Clarence. As far as I can remember it was the mere A B C of eugenics.” 

 Bailey, on his knees, picking up broken glass, raised a flushed and accusing face. 

 “Ah! Eugenics! You admit it!” 

 “I think,” went on Ruth placidly, “I asked him what sort of children he thought we were likely to have if we married.” 

 “A nice girl ought not to think about such things.” 

 “I don’t think about anything else much. A woman can’t do a great deal, even nowadays, but she can have a conscience and feel that she owes something to the future of the race. She can feel that it is her duty to bring fine children into the world. As Aunt Lora says, she can carry the torch and not falter.” 

 Bailey shied like a startled horse at the hated phrase. He pointed furiously at the photograph of the great thinker. 

 “You’re talking like that—that damned woman!” 

 “Bailey precious! You mustn’t use such wicked, wicked words.” 

 Bailey rose, pink and wrathful. 

 “If you’re going to break another vase,” said Ruth, “you will really have to go.” 

 “Ever since that—that——” cried Bailey. “Ever since Aunt Lora——” 

 Ruth smiled indulgently. 

 “That’s more like my little man,” she said. “He knows as well as I do how wrong it is to swear.” 

 Prev. P 18/231 next