"It's so dull
and tiring, to walk that way."
"I've got to keep my figure," replied Margaret, dropping her hands
to her slender hips, and lifting her shoulders in a movement that
drew down her corsets and showed the fine length of her waist.
"That's nonsense," said Lucia. "All we Severences get stout as we
grow old. You can't hope to escape."
"Grow old!" Margaret's brow lowered. Then she smiled satirically.
"Yes, I AM growing old. I don't dare think how many seasons out,
and not married, or even engaged. If we were rich, I'd be a young
girl still. As it is, I'm getting on.'"
"Don't you worry about that, Rita," said Lucia. "Don't you let
them hurry you into anything desperate. I'm sure _I_ don't want to
come out. I hate society and I don't care about men. It's much
pleasanter lounging about the house and reading. No dressing--no
fussing with clothes and people you hate."
"It isn't fair to you, Lucy," said Margaret. "I don't mind their
nagging, but I do mind standing in your way. And they'll keep you
back as long as I'm still on the market."
"But I want to be kept back." Lucia spoke almost energetically,
half lifting her form whose efflorescence had a certain charm
because it was the over-luxuriance of healthy youth.
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