"Not at all. Please." Von Klausen waived religious immunity. "I govern myself one way, but I do not object to hear the reasons why other people should choose other ways. Your way--your American way of divorce--is one of the peculiarities of your great nation, and so I studied it much while I lived there. If you permit, sir, to say it: the figures do not well bear out the boast that the American husband is the best husband.

So, Mrs. Stainton?"

"But he is, just the same," protested Muriel.

"What do the figures show?" asked Jim.

"That two divorces are granted to wives to every one granted husbands."

"With all the respect to the best wife in the world," chuckled Stainton, as he again patted Muriel's hand, "that is largely due to the fact that the average American is so good a husband that, innocent as he may be, he pretends to be the guilty party."

Von Klausen's eyes twinkled shrewdly.

"Is it not a little," he enquired, "because the disgrace of being judged a guilty husband is easier to bear than the ridicule that is involved in being unable to keep the love of one's wife?"

"Perhaps it is; perhaps it is," admitted Stainton. "But your figures do not prove anything against us as husbands, Captain. The only reason that similar figures don't show the men of other countries to be worse husbands than we are--if, indeed, they don't show it--is that the laws of other countries simply do not permit such easy divorce."

"Then what of your population?" asked the Austrian, reverting to his previous line of attack. "It declines as divorce rises in your country."

Muriel rose abruptly.

"I think I shall take a little walk," she said.

Stainton half-rose. Von Klausen sprang to his feet.

"Permit me----" began the Captain.

"No, no," said Muriel; "please sit still, both of you."

"But, my dear----" said Stainton.

"I don't want to interrupt your talk," the girl said. "Finish that and then join me, Jim."

"In ten minutes, then," said Stainton.

The men resumed their chairs. They looked after her strong young body as, the wind blowing her skirt about her, she walked away.

"At all events," said Stainton heartily, "there goes the best American wife."

Von Klausen had grown accustomed to the open domesticity of Americans.

He did not smile.

"She is a charming lady," he agreed. He looked out to sea. "And a beautiful." After a moment he added: "Do you object, sir, if I say that it is delightful, the manner in which the black hair gathers over her forehead and that in which she carries her gracious head?"

"Object, Captain? I say you're quite right. I'm a lucky man. Have you ever seen more lovely eyes?"

Von Klausen was still looking out to sea.

"In all the world I have seen but one pair that was their equal," he answered.

Stainton pulled at his cigar.

"You were saying,"--he returned to their previous subject--"that the American birth-rate declined as divorce grew. Do you think the increase of the one causes the decrease of the other?"

"I admit that the rate falls in times of commercial depression."

"Of course: divorce and birth are both expensive. If you would look into the matter a little closer, Captain, I think you would find that the growth of child labour and the cost of living have about as much to do with the fall in the birth-rate as anything else. Some of our divorces are granted to foreigners that come to America because they can't get easy divorces in their native lands. Most are given for desertion, which generally means that they are arranged by mutual consent. Nearly as many result from charges of 'cruelty,' which is as often as not the man's habit of whistling in the house when his wife has a headache--'constructive cruelty' we call it, although 'concocted cruelty' would be a better term. Adultery comes only next, I am told, and then neglect to provide, and drunkenness. The other causes are all lower in the list. So you see that when our divorces are not really the result of a quiet agreement between the husband and wife--and every judge that signs a decree knows in his heart that nine-tenths are that--they are the result of conduct which, for anybody who does not consider marriage a sacrament, abundantly justifies the action."

The talk shifted to Wall Street and continued for half an hour.

"Von Klausen has some antiquated ideas," remarked Stainton to Muriel as they were going to bed that night; "but he seems to be a pretty good sort of man. I like him."

Muriel was standing before the mirror, brushing the blue-black hair that fell nearly to her knees.

"Do you?" she asked, with no show of interest.

"Yes, he has good stuff in him. Of course, he's a mere boy, but he has good stuff in him, I'm sure."

"I don't see why you call him a boy," said Muriel,

"Why? Why, because he _is_ a boy, my dear."

"I'm sure you seem just as young as he is."

Stainton laughed and kissed her.

"Little Loyalty!"

"I don't care," said Muriel, "I don't like him."

"You don't? Why, I thought----"

"I did like him at first, but I don't any more."

"Why not? You ought to. He admires you tremendously."

"Does he? How do you know?"

"By what he says. He told me to-day that he had never seen but one pair of eyes equal to yours."

"Only one? That was nice of him, I'm sure. What else did he say?"

"He said--oh, lots of things. He said you had beautiful hair and that it somehow grew in curves from your forehead, and I said that he was quite right."

"Is that all?"

"All I can remember. How much do you want, anyhow?"

"Well, I don't like him."