“Yes, dear?” she said.
Northrup sat down in the chair that was his by his mother’s hearth.
“Kathryn wanted to marry me, Mother, at once.”
“That would be like her, bless her heart!”
“I could not accept the sacrifice, Mother.”
“That would be like you––but is it a sacrifice?”
“It seems so to me.”
“You see, son, to many women this is the supreme offering. All they can give, vicariously, at this great demanding hour.”
“Women must learn to stop that rubbish, Mother. We men must refuse it.”
“Why, Brace!” Then: “Are you quite, quite sure it was all for Kathryn, son?”