"What a success your golden border has been," the dowager exclaimed.
Dorothy felt suddenly that she could not any longer tolerate such compliments. The life-blood of her marriage seemed to be running dry before her eyes while she was amusing herself with golden borders, and she wanted her mother-in-law to understand how critical the position was, and what disasters lurked in the future while the sun flattered the flowers, and she flattered her son's wife.
"I'm going to be very frank," Dorothy began. "I want to know more about Tony's father."
The dowager with a look of alarm leaned over the border to hide her embarrassment.
"My dear," she said, "how cleverly you've combined this little St.-John's-wort with these copper-colored rock-roses. They look delightful together."
"Why did you marry him?" Dorothy asked.
"Dorothy! Such a question, but really, I suppose—well, I don't know. I suppose really because he asked me."
"Your mother didn't insist upon it?"
"Well, of course, my mother didn't oppose it," the dowager admitted. "No, certainly not ... she didn't actually oppose it; in fact possibly ... yes ... well.... I think one might almost say that she.... Oh, aren't these trolliums gorgeous? They are trolliums, aren't they? I always get confused between trilliums and trolliums?"
"Trollius. Persuaded you into it?" Dorothy supplemented. "Did you love him?"