He had almost forgotten the affair of Martha Wallingford.

He had excused his Margaret because she was a woman and he was profoundly ignorant of women's strange ambitions.

Now, he regarded her with unqualified admiration.

He looked from her to the other women and back again and was entirely convinced that she outshone them all as a sun a star.

He looked at the envelope in her blue lap and was sure that she had written something which was infinitely superior to the work of any other woman there.