"You are right in selecting this clown--this tag-rag," said she.
"You and he, I see, are peculiarly suited to each other....My only
regret is that in my blind affection I have wasted all these years
and all those thousands of dollars on you." Madam Bowker affected
publicly a fine scorn of money and all that thereto appertained;
but privately she was a true aristocrat in her reverence and
consideration for that which is the bone and blood of aristocracy.
"Nothing so stupid and silly as regret," said Margaret, with
placid philosophy of manner. "I, too, could think of things I
regret. But I'm putting my whole mind on the future."
"Future!" Madam Bowker laughed. "Why, my child, you have no
future. Within two years you'll either be disgracefully divorced,
or the wife of a little lawyer in a little Western town."
"But I'll have my husband and my children. What more can a woman
ask?"
The old lady scrutinized her granddaughter's tranquil, delicate
face in utter amazement. She could find nothing on which to base a
hope that the girl was either jesting or posing. "Margaret," she
cried, "are you CRAZY?"
"Do you think a desire for a home, and a husband who adores one,
and children whom one adores is evidence of insanity?"
"Yes, you are mad--quite mad!"
"I suppose you think that fretting about all my seasons without an
offer worth accepting has driven me out of my senses.
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