since infatuation thrives on opposition. He was not, he said, mentioning

her to his father.

In the next few weeks I heard of very little but Asenath from young Derby.

Others now remarked Edward's autumnal gallantry, though they agreed that

he did not look even nearly his actual age, or seem at all inappropriate

as an escort for his bizarre divinity. He was only a trifle paunchy

despite his indolence and self-indulgence, and his face was absolutely

without lines. Asenath, on the other hand, had the premature crow's feet

which come from the exercises of an intense will.

About this time Edward brought the girl to call on me, and I at once saw

that his interest was by no means one-sided. She eyed him continually with

an almost predatory air, and I perceived that their intimacy was beyond

untangling. Soon afterward I had a visit from old Mr. Derby, whom I had

always admired and respected. He had heard the tales of his son's new

friendship, and had wormed the whole truth out of "the boy." Edward meant

to marry Asenath, and had even been looking at houses in the suburbs.

Knowing my usually great influence with his son, the father wondered if I

could help to break the ill-advised affair off; but I regretfully

expressed my doubts. This time it was not a question of Edward's weak will

but of the woman's strong will. The perennial child had transferred his

dependence from the parental image to a new and stronger image, and

nothing could be done about it.

The wedding was performed a month later - by a justice of the peaoe,