My wife calmed slightly and replied: “He says she made him ridiculous with the airs she put on.”
I laughed. “After the education you gave her?”
“That’s right! Blame me!”
“And aren’t you to be blamed?” urged I. “Didn’t you have full charge of her from the time she was born? Couldn’t you have made what you pleased of her? Didn’t you make what you pleased of her?”
Edna tossed her head indignantly. “I never taught her to be a vulgar snob.”
“Why, I thought that was her whole education.”
Edna ignored this interruption. “It’s all very well for the women of noble families to act the snob,” pursued she. “Lots of them do, and no one criticises. But Margot ought to have had sense enough to realize that she, a mere American, couldn’t afford to do it. I warned her that her cue was sweetness and an air of equality. I told her that her title in itself would keep people at their proper distance. But she lost her head.”
“Then the thing for her to do is to behave herself.”
“It’s too late, I’m afraid. The tide has turned against her. All the women—especially the titled English women of good family—were against her—hated her—were ready to stab her in the back. And her haughtiness and condescension gave them the chance.”
“Well, what do you propose? To give him more money?”