Wilbur Littleton’s scheme of domestic life was essentially spiritual, and in the development of it he felt that he was consulting his wife’s tastes and theories no less than his own.  He knew that she understood that he was ambitious to make a name for himself as an architect; but to make it only by virtue of work of a high order; that he was unwilling to become a time-server or to lower his professional standards merely to make temporary progress, which in the end would mar a success worth having.  He had no doubt that he had made this clear to her and that she sympathized with him.  As a married man it was his desire and intention not to allow his interest in this ambition to interfere with the enjoyment of the new great happiness which had come into his life.  He would be a professional recluse no longer.  He would cast off his work when he left his office, and devote his evenings to the aesthetic delights of Selma’s society.  They would read aloud; he would tell her his plans and ask her advice; they would go now and then to the theatre; and, in justice to her, they would occasionally entertain their friends and accept invitations from them.  With this outlook in mind he had made such an outlay as would render his home attractive and cosey—­simple as became a couple just beginning life, yet the abode of a gentleman and a lover of inspiring and pretty things.

As has been mentioned, Littleton was a Unitarian, and one effect of his faith had been to make his point of view broad and straightforward.  He detested hypocrisy and cant, subterfuge and self-delusion.  He was content to let other people live according to their own lights without too much distress on their account, but he was too honest and too clear-headed to be able to deceive himself as to his own motives and his own conduct.  He had no intention to be morbid, but he saw clearly that it was his privilege and his duty to be true to both his loves, his wife and his profession, and that if he neglected either, he would be so far false to his best needs and aspirations.  Yet he felt that for the moment it was incumbent on him to err on the side of devotion to his wife until she should become accustomed to her new surroundings.

The problem of the proper arrangement and subdivision of life in a large city and in these seething, modern times is perplexing to all of us.  There are so many things we would like to do which we cannot; so many things which we do against our wills.  We are perpetually squinting at happiness, but just as we get a delightful vision before our eyes we are whisked off by duty or ambition or the force of social momentum to try a different view.  Consequently our perennial regret is apt to be that we have seen our real interests and our real friends as in a panorama, for a fleeting moment, and then no more until the next time.  For Littleton this was less true than for most.  His life was deep and stable rather than many-sided.  To be sure his brain experienced,