"Yes, I shall marry him," repeated Margaret slowly.
"But you don't love him!" cried Lucia.
"I dislike him," replied Margaret. After a pause she added: "When
a woman makes up her mind to marry a man, willy-nilly, she begins
to hate him. It's a case of hunter and hunted. Perhaps, after
she's got him, she may change. But not till the trap springs--not
till the game's bagged."
Lucia shuddered. "Oh, Rita!" she cried. And she turned away to
bury her face in her arms.
"I suppose I oughtn't to tell you these things," pursued Margaret;
"I ought to leave you your illusions as long as possible. But--
why shouldn't you know the truth? Perhaps, if we all faced the
truth about things, instead of sheltering ourselves in lies, the
world would begin to improve."
"But I don't see why you chose him," persisted Lucia.
"I didn't. Fate did the choosing."
"But why not somebody like--like Grant Arkwright? Rita, I'm sure
he's fond of you."
"So am I," said Rita. "But he's got the idea he would be doing me
a favor in marrying me; and when a man gets that notion it's
fatal. Also--He doesn't realize it himself, but I'm not prim
enough to suit him. He imagines he's liberal--that's a common
failing among men.
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