Georgina hesitated a moment. “Why, no, Mrs. Portico, of course I haven’t; Raymond’s a splendid fellow.”
“Then why don’t you live with him? You don’t explain that.”
“What would be the use when he’s always away? How can one live with a man that spends half his life in the South Seas? If he was n’t in the navy it would be different; but to go through everything,—I mean everything that making our marriage known would bring upon me,—the scolding and the exposure and the ridicule, the scenes at home,—to go through it all, just for the idea, and yet be alone here, just as I was before, without my husband after all,—with none of the good of him,”—and here Georgina looked at her hostess as if with the certitude that such an enumeration of inconveniences would touch her effectually,—“really, Mrs. Portico, I am bound to say I don’t think that would be worth while; I haven’t the courage for it.”
“I never thought you were a coward,” said Mrs. Portico.
“Well, I am not,—if you will give me time. I am very patient.”
“I never thought that, either.”
“Marrying changes one,” said Georgina, still smiling.
“It certainly seems to have had a very peculiar effect upon you. Why don’t you make him leave the navy, and arrange your life comfortably, like every one else?”
“I would n’t for the world interfere with his prospects—with his promotion. That is sure to come for him, and to come quickly, he has such talents. He is devoted to his profession; it would ruin him to leave it.”
“My dear young woman, you are a wonderful creature!” Mrs. Portico exclaimed, looking at her companion as if she had been in a glass case.