... Why don't you answer?"
Margaret shrugged her shoulders. "You know I detest champagne and
never drink it," said she. "And I don't purpose to begin, even to
oblige you."
"To oblige me!"
"To give you pretext for contention and nagging and quarreling."
Madam Bowker was now in the element she had been seeking--the
stormy sea of domestic wrangling. She struck out boldly, with
angry joy. "I've long since learned not to expect gratitude from
you. I can't understand my own weakness, my folly, in continuing
to labor with you."
"That's very simple," said Margaret. "I'm the one human being you
can't compel by hook or crook to bow to your will. You regard me
as unfinished business."
Madam Bowker smiled grimly at this shrewd analysis. "I want to see
you married and properly settled in life. I want to end this
disgrace. I want to save you from becoming ridiculous and
contemptible--an object of laughter and of pity."
"You want to see me married to some man I dislike and should soon
hate."
"I want to see you married," retorted the old lady. "I can't be
held responsible for your electing to hate whatever is good for
you. And I came to tell you that my patience is about exhausted.
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