She told him one day of some of her longings and distastes. She hated the farm, the country. She wanted the glory of the city—dress, theaters, operas, promenades.
"Can't you tell me how to get what I want?"
"Child," said Gregory, "you would weary of it, and long for peace. You have a devoted young lover, who offers you a comfortable home at Lindenholm."
"To live with my mother-in-law!" sneered Doris.
"An admirable woman. I have met her."
"It would be just this dullness repeated all my life," said Doris, tearful and pouting.
"It would be love, comfort, safety, goodness. Besides, this young Moray is one of our coming men. He has native power. I am much mistaken if he does not make a name, fame, place, fortune."
"Do you suppose he will one day go to London and be great?"
"Yes, I do."
"I would like that. A poet's lovely home, where learned people, and musical wonders, and famous actors, and artists like you, Mr. Leslie, come; and we had flowers, and pictures, and song, and gayety."