Olivia glanced up obliquely under her lashes.
"I see what you mean, too."
"You mustn't see too much." Drusilla spoke hastily. She waited in some anxiety to see just what significance Olivia had taken from her words; but when the latter spoke it was to pass on to another point.
"You see, he didn't want to marry an American, in the first place."
"Well, no one forced him into that. That's one thing he did with his eyes open, at any rate."
"His doing it was a sort of—concession."
Drusilla looked at her with big, indignant eyes.
"Concession to what, for pity's sake?"
"Concession to his own heart, I suppose." Olivia smiled, faintly. "You see, all other things being equal, he would have preferred to marry one of his own countrywomen."
"It's six of one and half a dozen of the other. If he'd married one of his own countrywomen, the other things wouldn't have been equal. So there you are."