Mrs. Gladwyne saw that he understood, but she felt half guilty as she proceeded:
“You admit that you could not give her anything of this kind in Canada?”
He laughed rather grimly.
“No; our homes were built yesterday, and we move on rapidly—they’ll be pulled down again to-morrow. I’ll own that our ideas and manners are in the same unfinished, transitory stage. We haven’t been able to sit down and learn how to be graceful.”
She made a sign of comprehension, though her reluctance to proceed grew stronger. He was very honest and there was pain in his face.
“Millicent,” she said, “is essentially one of us, used to what we consider needful, bred to our ways. The endless small amenities which make life smooth here have always surrounded her. Can you imagine her, for instance, living with the Marples?”
“No,” he replied harshly; “I can’t.”
“Then do you think it would be wise to take her to Canada?”
“I have thought she would not mind giving up many things she values, if one could win her affection.”
“That is very true; but it doesn’t get over the difficulty. It isn’t so very hard to nerve oneself to make a sacrifice, it’s the facing of the inevitable results when the reaction sets in that tells. She would continually miss something she had been used to and she would long for it.”