“Oh,” said Florence with a laugh, “I mean to get married very soon and have done with her. She will be quite useful until I am married. Why—how shocked you look, Brenda!”
“You are only eighteen; how can you think of such a thing as getting married?” said Brenda.
Florence laughed and stroked her sister’s hair.
“I think of it very often,” she said, “almost every day; in fact, it is the only thing before me. I mean to marry a rich and great man.”
“But you must love him,” said Brenda.
“I dare say I shall be able to manage that too,” cried Florence.