She  has  come  to  realize  that  she  has  only  one  life  to  live,  and
she  seems  happier,  more  composed,  more  herself  than  she
has  ever  been  since  our  marriage.    Of  course  I  don't  mean  to


A  FAR  COUNTRY  401

say  it  isn't  painful  for  her.  .  .  .  But  I  am  sure  she  isn't  —
well,  that  it  isn't  because  of  our  seeing  one  another,"  I  con-
cluded haltingly.
"She  is  finer  than  either  of  us,  Hugh,  —  far  finer."

I  did  not  rehsh  this  statement.
"She's  fine,  I  admit.  But  I  can't  see  how  under  the  cir-
cumstances any  of  us  could  have  acted  differently."  And
Nancy  not  replying,  I  continued:  "She  has  made  up  her
mind  to  go, — I  suppose  I  could  prevent  it  by  taking  extreme
measures,  —  but  what  good  would  it  do  ?  Isn't  it,  after  all,
the  most  sensible,  the  only  way  out  of  a  situation  that  has
become  impossible?  Times  have  changed,  Nancy,  and  you
yourself  have  been  the  first  to  admit  it.  Marriage  is  no
longer  what  it  was,  and  people  are  coming  to  look  upon  it
more  sensibly.  In  order  to  perpetuate  the  institution,  as
it  was,  segregation,  insulation,  was  the  only  course.  Men
segregated  their  wives,  women  their  husbands,  —  the  only
logical  method  of  procedure,  but  it  limited  the  individual.
