Sometimes I
think so, too." And Margaret lapsed into abstracted, dreamy
silence.
"Do you pretend that you--you--care for--this person?" inquired
the old lady.
"I can't discuss him with you, Grandmother," replied the girl.
"You know you have washed your hands of me."
"I shall never give up," cried the old lady vehemently, "until I
rescue you. I'll not permit this disgrace. I'll have him driven
out of Washington."
"Yes, you might try that," said Margaret. "I don't want him to
stay here. I am sick--sick to death--of all this. I loathe
everything I ever liked. It almost seems to me I'd prefer living
in a cabin in the back-woods. I've just wakened to what it really
means--no love, no friendship, only pretense and show, rivalry in
silly extravagance, aimless running to and fro among people that
care nothing for one, and that one cares nothing for. If you could
see it as I see it you'd understand."
But Madam Bowker had thought all her life in terms of fashion and
society. She was not in the least impressed. "Balderdash!" said
she with a jab at the floor with the ebony staff. "Don't pose
before me. You know very well you're marrying this man because you
believe he will amount to a great deal.
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