He hadn't married Mary--he never knew Mary at all.

But, do you know?
I'd never thought of that before--until Mother said what she did.

Why, probably Jerry was just as much disappointed to find his Marie turned into a Mary as I-- But Mother was talking again.
She said that she thought Jerry was a wonderful man, in some ways; that she never saw a man with such charm and magnetism, or one who could so readily adapt himself to different persons and circumstances.
And she said she was very sure if Mary could only show a little more interest in pictures (especially portraits), and learn to discuss lights and shadows and perspectives, that nothing would be lost, and that something might be gained; that there was nothing, anyway, like a community of interest or of hobbies to bring two people together; and that it was safer, to say the least, when it was the wife that shared the community of interest than when it was some other woman, though, of course, she knew as well as I knew that Jerry never would--She didn't finish her sentence, and because she didn't finish it, it made me think all the more.

And I wondered if she left it unfinished--on purpose.
Then, in a minute, she was talking again.
She was speaking of Eunice.

She said once more that because of her, she knew that she need never fear any serious trouble between Jerry and me, for, after all, it's the child that always pays for the mother's mistakes and short-sightedness, just as it is the soldier that pays for his commanding officer's blunders.