"Really, Margaret, this is beneath you," says Tita, laughing in spite of herself. "No! no! no! I tell you," starting to her feet, "I'd rather die than meet him again. When you and Colonel Neilson are married——"
"Oh! as to that," says Margaret, but she colours faintly.
"I shall take a tiny cottage in the country, and a tiny maid; and
I'll have chickens, and a big dog, and a pony and trap, and——"
"A desolate hearth. No, Tita, you were not born for the old maid's joys."
"Well, I was not born to be tyrannized over, any way," says Tita, raising her arms above her head, her fingers interlaced, and yawning lightly. "And old maid has liberty, at all events."
"I don't see that mine does me much good," says Margaret ruefully.
"That's why you are going to give it up. Though anyone who could call you an old maid would be a fool. I sometimes"—wistfully— "wish you were going to be one, Meg, because then I could live with you for ever."
"Well, you shall."
"No; not I. Three is trumpery."
"There won't be three."