“What sort of things?”
“Oh, being on committees that you don’t really take any interest in.” She rather enjoyed his amazement.
“Now tell me one thing more,” he said. “What would you do if you had to earn your living?”
The true answer was that she would marry Edward Hickson, but, though heretofore she had been fairly candid, she thought on this point a little dissembling was permissible. “I should starve, I suppose,” she returned gaily.
“And suppose you fell in love with a poor man?”
She grew grave at once. “Oh, that’s a dreadful thing to happen to one,” she said. “I’ve had two friends who did that.” She almost shuddered. “One actually married him.”
“And what happened to her?”
Miss Fenimer shook her head. “I don’t know. She’s living in the suburbs somewhere. I haven’t seen her for ages.”
“And the other?”
“She was more practical. She married him to a rich widow ten years older than he was. That provided for him, you see, at least. But it turned out worse than the other case.”