“What shall I do without Marian?” said Conolly. “Not one woman in a hundred is capable of being a mistress to her servants. She saved me all the friction of housekeeping.”
“You are beginning to feel your loss,” said Elinor, facing him again. “A pleasant thing for a woman of her talent to be thrown away to save you the friction of housekeeping. If you had paid half the attention to her happiness that she did to your dinners you would not be in your present predicament.”
“Have you really calculated that it is twice as easy to make a woman happy as to feed a man?”
“Calc—! Yes, I have. I tell you that it is three times as easy—six times as easy: more fool the woman! You can make a woman happy for a week by a word or a kiss. How long do you think it takes to order a week’s dinners? I suppose you consider a kiss a weakness?”
“I am afraid—judging by the result—that I am not naturally clever at kissing.”
“No, I should think not, indeed. Then you had better go and do what you are clever at—eat your dinner.”
“Miss McQuinch: did you ever see an unfortunate little child get a severe fall, and then, instead of a little kindly petting, catch a sound whacking from its nurse for daring to startle her and spoil its clothes?”
“Well, what is the point of that?”
“You remind me a little of the nurse. I have had a sort of fall this evening.”
“And now you are going to pretend to be hurt, I suppose; because you dont care to be told that it is your own fault. That is a common experience with children, too. I tell you plainly that I dont believe you are hurt at all; though you may not be exactly pleased—just for the moment. However, I did not mean to be uncivil. If you are really sorry, I am at least as sorry. I have not said all I think.”