If you are not engaged by the end of this season, I wash my hands
of you. I have been spending a great deal of money in the effort
to establish you. You are a miserable failure socially. You attach
only worthless men. You drive away the serious men."
"Stupid, you mean."
"I mean serious--the men looking for wives. Men who have something
and have a right to aspire to the hand of MY grandchild. The only
men who have a right to take the time of an unmarried woman. You
either cannot, or will not, exert yourself to please. You avoid
young girls and young men. You waste your life with people already
settled. You have taken on the full airs and speech of a married
woman, in advance of having a husband--and that is folly bordering
on insanity. You have discarded everything that men--marrying
men--the right sort of men--demand in maidenhood. I repeat, you
are a miserable failure."
"A miserable failure," echoed Margaret, staring dismally into the
glass.
"And I repeat," continued the old lady, somewhat less harshly,
though not less resolutely, "this season ends it. You must marry
or I'll stop your allowance. You'll have to look to your mother
for your dresses and hats and gee-gaws.
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