“You don't notice things, dear Grig. In the country it's still more out of fashion. You wouldn't find a woman within thirty miles of here who would like a man to kneel to her. We've lost the habit. She would think she was being made fun of. We soon grow out of vanity!”
“In London,” said Gregory, “I hear all women intend to be men; but in the country I thought——”
“In the country, Grig, all women would like to be men, but they don't dare to try. They trot behind.”
As if she had been guilty of thoughts too insightful, Mrs. Pendyce blushed.
Gregory broke out suddenly:
“I can't bear to think of women like that!”
Again Mrs. Pendyce smiled.
“You see, Grig dear, you are not married.”
“I detest the idea that marriage changes our views, Margery; I loathe it.”
“Mind my daffodils!” murmured Mrs. Pendyce.