that the woman who marries the man like that—would not love him?"
"Yes, that is the way it would be in America. Love, in this country, must be free, or it is not love at all."
"In China, it is different!" mused Mr. Spring Fragrance.
"Oh, yes, I have no doubt that in China it is different."
"But the love is in the heart all the same," went on Mr. Spring Fragrance.
"Yes, all the same. Everybody falls in love some time or another. Some"—pensively—"many times."
Mr. Spring Fragrance arose.
"I must go down town," said he.
As he walked down the street he recalled the remark of a business acquaintance who had met his wife and had had some conversation with her: "She is just like an American woman."
He had felt somewhat flattered when this remark had been made. He looked upon it as a compliment to his wife's cleverness; but it rankled in his mind as he entered the telegraph office. If his wife was becoming as an American woman, would it not be possible for her to love as an American woman—a man to whom she was not married? There also floated in his memory the verse which his
