"She could not love as we should; she doesn't know what the word means. If she did she wouldn't hesitate."
"You think Henry's opinion of her is correct, then?"
"I think he's right usually. Miss Wildmere is devoted to one being—herself."
"Why, Madge, it would be dreadful to have Graydon marry such a girl!"
"Graydon is not Harry Muir. He attained his majority some years since."
"He certainly is old enough to show more spirit. Well, I don't understand her tactics, but such belles, I suppose, are a law unto themselves."
"Don't let us gossip about her any more. If Graydon becomes engaged there is only one thing for us to do. Miss Wildmere has made herself disagreeable to me in many little nameless ways, and we never could be friends, but I shall not give Graydon cause for just complaint. If he asks me to see her with his eyes, I shall laugh at him and decline."
"They shall never live with us," said Mrs. Muir, emphatically. "I know I'm not a brilliant and accomplished woman, but I have always made home a place of rest and comfort for Henry, and I intend it always shall be just such a refuge. He is nervous and uncomfortable whenever that girl comes near him. Some people can't get on together at all. I am so glad that he likes you! He says you are one that a man could depend upon in all sorts of weather."
"We'll see; but I like Santa Barbara weather, which is usually serene."
"Oh, Madge, you'll not go there again?"