"In a fresh-water college?" said Mrs. Cromer, raising her eyebrows.
"Why not, for a fresh-water boy? He will always live in the West."
"He is so handsome," said Mrs. Rankin, "that he might go Eastward, captivate his relatives, and win his way back into the family again."
"He does not know anything about his family," said the colonel's wife.
"Then some one ought to tell him."
"Why? Simply for the money? No: let him lead his own life out here, and make his own way," said Mrs. Bryden, warmly.
"What a radical you are, Jane!"
"No, not a radical; but I have seen two or three of the younger Pronandos, of the fourth generation, I mean, and whenever I think of their dead eyes, and lifeless, weary manner, I feel like doing what I can to keep Rast away from them."
"But the boy must live his life, Jane. These very Pronandos whom you describe will probably be sober and staid at fifty: the Pronandos always are. And Rast, after all, is one of them."
"But not like them. He would go to ruin, he has so much more imagination than they have."