"But don't you see," said Edith, "she evidently thinks it is so good of her to have feelings about it at all. She might as well call attention to the fact that she always puts her shoes and stockings on to go to church."
"There's a lot of women who would marry again before a year was out if it wasn't for convention," said Miss Grantham.
"That's probably the case with Dodo," remarked Edith. "Dodo doesn't care one pin for the memory of that man. She knows it, and she knows I know it. Why does she say that sort of thing to me? He was a good man, too, and I'm not sure that he wasn't great. Chesterford detested me, but I recognised him."
"Oh, I don't think he was great," said Miss Grantham. "Didn't he always strike you as a little stupid?"
"I prefer stupid people," declared Edith roundly. "They are so restful. They're like nice; sweet, white bread; they quench your hunger as well as pâté de foie gras, and they are much better for you."
"I think they make you just a little thirsty," remarked Miss Grantham. "I should have said they were more like cracknels. Besides, do you think that it's an advantage to associate with people who are good for you? It produces a sort of rabies in me. I want to bite them."
"You like making yourself out worse than you are, Grantie," said Edith.
"I think you like making Dodo out worse than she is," returned Nora. "I always used to think you were very fond of her."
"I am fond of her," said Edith; "that's why I'm dissatisfied with her."
"What a curious way of showing your affection," said Miss Grantham. "I love Dodo, and if I was a man I should like to many her."