"Mother, I've the greatest mind on earth not to do it."
"My pet, what is the matter?"
"I can't imagine why I ever thought I wanted to marry! I don't want to do it a bit. I don't want to go away and leave you and father. And, mother, I really don't believe that I love him!"
It was so like Lucy after months of cool determination, of perfect assurance, of stubborn resistance to opposition—it was so exactly like her to break down when it was too late and to begin to question whether she really wanted her own way after she had won it. And it was so like Virginia that at the first sign of weakness in her child she should grow suddenly strong and efficient.
"My darling, it is only nervousness. You will be better as soon as you begin to dress. Come upstairs and I will fix you a dose of aromatic ammonia."
"Do you really think it's too late to stop it?"
"Not if you feel you are going to regret it, but you must be very sure that it isn't merely a mood, Lucy."
At the first sign that the step was not yet irrevocable, the girl's courage returned.
"Well, I suppose I'll have to get married now," she said, "but if I don't like it, I'm not going to live with him."
"Not live with your husband! Why, Lucy!"