"I never thought about marrying," said Helen. "Cannot two persons love each other just the same without either thinking of marriage?"
"They could I suppose, but the world would soon make it hot for them. They would have to pay for defying the world."
"Pay!"
"Yes, and dearly too. Pay for it by seeing the finger of scorn directed towards them—the cold shoulder of respectability and self-righteousness; by being forced to listen to vile gossip and scandalous reports; shunned by those far viler than themselves; bear up against the ribald jeers of the vile populace, till their lives become a burden to them, and they would finally be compelled to confess that they would have done better for their own peace and comfort if they had humoured the vile rabble and married."
"Does love without marriage mean all that?"
"I am afraid it does, my girl; I am afraid it does. At least, I wouldn't advise you to brave the world. It isn't worth it. If you can't marry, you had better not encourage love."
"I don't see that it matters to them if I love or if I don't," observed the girl.
"Neither do I, my dear," answered her counsellor, "and if people would mind their own business, the world would be happier."
"It seems so mean and paltry to be always prying into other people's affairs. I can't tell why they do it. I am sure I should never take the trouble. How is it, Mr. Oldstone?"
"My dear," replied the old man, "I can't tell you how these things are, but so they are."