“Yep.”
Gregory abandoned tact. “Then begin at once to prepare yourself. You must have a teacher and study—English, above all things.”
“My Goo-r-rd!” She flushed almost purple. For the moment she hated him. “I’ve always suspicioned you thought I wasn’t good enough for you, with your graduatin’ from the High School almost while you was in short pants, and them two years and over at that high-brow School of Mines; and now you’re tellin’ me you’ll be ashamed of me the minute you’re on top!”
Gregory made another attempt at diplomacy. What his wife achieved socially was a matter of profound indifference to him, but she must reform her speech if his home life was to be endurable.
“I am forcing my imagination to keep pace with your future triumphs,” he said with the charming smile that disarmed even Ida when irate. “If you are going to be a prominent figure in society——”
“My land, you oughter heard the grammar and slang of some of the newest West Siders when they were makin’ up their minds at Madame O’Reilley’s, or havin’ their measures took. They don’t frighten me one little bit.”
“There is a point. To lead them you must be their superior—and the equal of those that have made the most of their advantages.”
“That’s not such a bad idea.”
“Think it over.” He rose, for he was tired of the conversation. “These western civilisations are said to be crude, but I fancy they are the world in little. Subtlety, a brain developed beyond the common, should go far——”
“Greg, you are dead right!” She had suddenly remembered that she must play up to this man who held her ambitions in his hand, and she had the wit to acknowledge his prospicience, little as were the higher walks of learning to her taste. She sprang to her feet with a supple undulating movement and flung herself into his arms.