"Yes, I suppose it will. Jane seems to be pursuing him with great avidity."
"And why shouldn't she? Barry would make her a very good husband. The marriage would unite two of the best families. Besides, you didn't want him yourself, why should you object to some other girl having him?"
"I don't object. Jane is quite welcome to him so far as I'm concerned, but—poor Barry! Think of what he'd have to listen to."
"Well, if he's like most men, what his wife would say would go in at one ear and out at the other, anyway."
"Yes, and in Barry's case the passage from one ear to the other would be so easy—nothing to interfere, you know."
"Ruth! To talk that way about your guests! It's positively sinful!"
"Well, I apologize. And I'm quite willing to admit that Barry has his good points. But so many of them lie dormant, and Jane Chichester would never be the woman to bring them out. I'll tell you what Barry needs, mother. He needs a wife, not necessarily of the cultured class, but one who can supply what he lacks in intellect, and who is sufficiently forceful and tactful to use him and his social position for the benefit of themselves and the city. As he is now, unmarried, he is more or less of a joke. With Jane Chichester as his wife, he would become practically a nonentity. With such a woman as I would pick out for him, his position and his happiness would be assured."
"But where is the woman?"
"Oh, I haven't the least idea. I haven't so much as—mother!"
"Well, what is it?"
"I have a thought."
"About what?"
"About whom Barry should marry."
