month to perceive that she was supremely, almost strangely indulgent. There was noth ing he was ready to say that she might not hear, and her absence of coquetry was a remarkable rest to him.
"It isn't what I expected—it's what I didn't expect. To say exactly what I mean, it's the way you've improved."
"I've improved? I'm so glad!"
"Surely you've been aware of it—you've been conscious of the transformation."
"As an improvement? I don't know. I've been conscious of changes enough—of all the stages and strains and lessons of life. I've been aware of growing old, and I hold, in dissent from the usual belief, that there's no fool like a young fool. One is never, I suppose, such a fool as one has been, and that may count, perhaps, as amelioration. But I can't flatter myself that I've had two different identities. I've had to make one, such as it is, do for everything. I think I've been happier than I originally supposed I should be—and yet I had my happiness, too, as a girl. At all events, if you were to scratch me, as they say, you'd