“Yes, my dear, I am so sorry for you, but don’t let the fact of you being a little over-wrought influence you to . . . Why, think of the village. You know better than I do that Mrs. Crayshaw is so busy having babies that she has absolutely no time to attend to the affairs of the village. Why, it would all be indecent and disgraceful if you went so that there was no one left to look after it. You know how it is, illegitimate babies immediately, my dear. Oh no, Emily, you cannot go. Besides, what does the boy want to do in London?”
“Yes, but you see he is artistic.”
“But Emily, painters always go to the country for inspiration. I have never heard of a painting of a town that was any good. And there is nothing to write about in a town. Don’t let him ruin your life, Emily.”
“My duty is by him.”
“Yes, my dear, but does he know what he wants? He is only restless. And what would become of the committees and everything? And the Hospital Ball, Emily?”
“Yes.”
“And the Nursing Association, and the Women’s Institute, just when it is beginning to go so nicely, you know. Without you it would collapse. You are absolutely indispensable to its welfare!”
“Am I?”
“Now don’t be modest. Why, of course, you are. Think of Mrs. Walkers on the Board of Guardians. Emily, she isn’t honest.”
“She is dangerous, that woman.”