“Just what I’ve always said. For my part, I haven’t an atom of prejudice in my composition. It is unworthy of enlightened human beings, and so I tell Edward and Louis.”
“And what do they say?”
“Oh, that they are not prejudiced, of course. Denial is the only answer such people can give. But, for all that, they are. I think Northern people, as a rule, are more prejudiced than Southerners.”
“They must go great lengths, if they are,” said Margaret; “but I am not speaking of the more enlightened ones, and I have always supposed that the existence of such feelings in Bassett was due to the fact that it is such a small place, and so shut off from contact with the world. And then, too, I think much of it is to be attributed to the fact that those poor people suffered so terribly by the war.”
“Exactly. I often tell Edward and Louis that they are so much less justifiable, because they were the victors. I’m sure I feel it a very easy thing to be magnanimous toward a person I’ve got the better of. But I’ve long since ceased to apply arguments to a prejudice. Finding they did not answer, I thought a practical illustration might.”
A moment’s silence ensued, which Margaret presently broke by saying:
“Is Mr. Louis Gaston younger or older than your husband?”
“Younger, of course,—years younger. He’s not quite thirty.”
“Is he a bachelor or a widower?”
“A bachelor, of course. Fancy Louis being a widower! He stands on the high vantage-ground of lofty impregnability. He is not in love, and he would fain have it believed he never has been, or at least only in a careless and off-hand manner. Not that he avoids women. On the contrary, he goes into society, and enjoys it very much when he has time, which is not very often.”