BY ALICE DUER MILLER
From The Saturday Evening Post
The Chelmsford divorce had been accomplished with the utmost decorum, not only
outwardly in the newspapers, but inwardly among a group of intimate friends. They were
a homogeneous couple--were liked by the same people, enjoyed the same things, and
held many friends in common. These were able to say with some approach to certainty
that everyone had behaved splendidly, even the infant of twenty-three with whom Julian
had fallen in love.
Of course there will always be the question--and we used to argue it often in those days--
how well a man can behave who, after fifteen perfectly satisfactory years of married life,
admits that he has fallen in love with another woman. But if you believe in the clap-of-
thunder theory, as I do, why, then, for a man nearing forty, taken off his feet by a blond-
headed girl, Julian, too, behaved admirably.
As for Mrs. Julian, there was never any doubt as to her conduct. I used to think her--and I
was not alone in the opinion--the most perfect combination of gentleness and power, and
charity and humour, that I had ever seen. She was a year or so older than Julian--though
she did not look it--and a good deal wiser, especially in the ways of the world; and, oddly
enough, one of the features that worried us most in the whole situation was how he was
ever going to get on, in the worldly sense, without her. He was to suffer not only from the
loss of her counsel but from the lack of her indorsement. There are certain women who
are a form of insurance to a man; and Anne gave a poise and solidity to Julian's
presentation of himself which his own flibbertigibbet manner made particularly
necessary.
I think this view of the matter disturbed Anne herself, though she was too clever to say
so; or perhaps too numbed by the utter wreck of her own life to see as clearly as usual the
rocks ahead of Julian. It was she, I believe, who first mentioned, who first thought of
divorce, and certainly she who arranged the details. Julian, still in the more ideal stage of
his emotion, had hardly wakened to the fact that his new love was marriageable. But Mrs.
Julian, with the practical eye of her sex, saw in a flash all it might mean to him, at his
age, to begin life again with a young beauty who adored him.
She saw this, at least, as soon as she saw anything; for Julian, like most of us when the
occasion rises, developed a very pretty power of concealment. He had for a month been
seeing Miss Littell every day before any of us knew that he went to see her at all.
Certainly Anne, unsuspicious by nature, was unprepared for the revelation.
It took place in the utterly futile, unnecessary way such revelations always do take place.
The two poor innocent dears had allowed themselves a single indiscretion; they had gone
out together, a few days before Christmas, to buy some small gifts for each other. They
