Mrs. Milo got to her feet. "Sue! What're you talking about? Why, she never even speaks of marriage."
"Well, maybe she—thinks."
"She doesn't think, either. She has her work, and—and her home."
Mrs. Milo was fairly trembling.
"How do you know she doesn't think? It's perfectly natural."
"I know. And please don't bring up the subject in her presence."
"Why, my dear!" chided Mrs. Balcome, amazed at the passion flaming in the blue eyes.
"And don't tease her about Mr. Farvel." That voice so habitually well modulated became suddenly shrill.
"Don't you like him?"—soothingly.
"Not well enough to give my daughter to him."
"Well," simpered Mrs. Balcome, all elephantine playfulness, "we mustn't expect perfection in our son-in-laws. Though Wallace is wonderful—isn't he, Hattie?"