"Your husband 'll be a lucky chap, Marigold."
"What! Because I'm to do everything, and he to do nothing?" Marigold flashed out this retort before she knew what she was saying. And when she had said the words, she knew that she meant them. "No, that wouldn't do. I'd work any amount, but I couldn't put up with an idle husband . . . I should despise him so."
"Now, I say, Marigold!"
"I should! I do despise laziness. And how could I go on caring for a man I couldn't respect? It wouldn't mean him or me being happy."
"Oh, well, we ain't talking about lazy folks. I only said your husband 'ud be a lucky man; and so he will be—to have such a girl for his wife. Couldn't be luckier. Of course he'd work. No chance of his not having enough to do. But he wouldn't have an idle useless wife to support."
"I hope not," Marigold said; and then they reached the door. "Coming in to-night?" she asked.
"Well, no; your father is out, and she ain't best pleased to have me. If I was you, I wouldn't say nothing about our walking this evening."
Again the sense of something wrong. "Why not?" Marigold asked.
"Well, I wouldn't, you know. That's all."
"If it's right to do, it's right to speak about. I shouldn't like to do a thing I mightn't tell."