DURING THE FIRST few weeks of Laurel’s existence Stella gloried much more in the pleasing curves her own figure assumed than in the exquisite beauty of Laurel’s perfect body. Oh, yes, it was a cute little thing, she acknowledged, but she had wanted a boy—always preferred the opposite sex. She nursed the baby for a week or two, but she warned the doctor, with a gay little nod of her head, she wasn’t going to be “a cow” once she got up. How Stephen had cringed when she referred to herself as “a cow.” Honestly it was funny how the English language could hurt Stephen.

Laurel was barely five weeks old when Stella donned an evening gown—(“Look at me, Stephen,” she had exclaimed delightedly; “I’m a perfect sylph.”)—and went to an evening dance.

She didn’t look pale and tired and wistful, the way most mothers of young babies looked, and go home early. See, her bright cheeks announced, her ecstatic manner proclaimed, it hasn’t made any difference. I can dance just as well, I can flirt just as well! She and her partner had been one of the half-dozen couples still dancing on the ballroom floor to the music of a solitary piano at 3 a.m., when the janitor began turning off the lights. Stephen, waiting patiently below, outside the ladies’ dressing-room, had been the parent who was wondering—and wondering bitterly too—if the baby had slept through.

Stella returned to the arena of her ambitions with a determination to make up for lost time as quickly and emphatically as possible. And Stephen returned to the valley of shame and humiliation. During this period the cloak he wore to cover the shivering nakedness of his mortification concealed at the same time much of his natural camaraderie. It was impossible for him to participate in mild hilarities of whatever kind, in Milhampton, under the constant ban of his relationship to one whose hilarity was often overdone. He became extremely subdued in manner, reserved, short of speech, disinclined to respond to friendly approaches. Some people in Milhampton called him glum and ill-humored.

Outside Milhampton, however, there was nothing glum and ill-humored about Stephen Dallas. In another city he met amiability more than half way. His old charm, of which he possessed no small amount, returned to him shining and bright the minute that he escaped his relationship to Stella. He bore himself with more confidence and effective self-esteem with business associates, too, who were far enough removed from Milhampton to know nothing of his home life. Every week’s or two week’s absence from Stella became oases of refreshment to Stephen. Mr. Palmer, accompanying Stephen on one of his business trips, had witnessed the metamorphosis, and he opened up as many business opportunities out of town for his protégé as possible. Stephen’s reputation for ability in the law spread.