“Oh, I said that was an unimportant detail, and changed the subject.”
Algitha was still scornful, but Hadria looked meditative.
“Harold Wilkins has a practical mind,” she observed. “After all, he is right, when you come to consider it.”
“Hadria!” remonstrated her sister, in dismay.
“We may as well be candid,” said Hadria. “There is uncommonly little that a girl can do (or rather that people will let her do) unless she marries, and that is why she so often does marry as a mere matter of business. But I wish Harold Wilkins would remember that fact, instead of insisting that it is our inherent and particular nature that urges us, one and all, to the career of Mrs. Gordon.”
Algitha was obviously growing more and more ruffled. Fred tried in vain to soothe her feelings. He joked, but she refused to see the point. She would not admit that Harold Wilkins had facts on his side.
“If one simply made up one’s mind to walk through all the hampering circumstances, who or what could stop one?” she asked.
“Algitha has evidently got some desperate plan in her head for making mincemeat of circumstances,” cried Fred, little guessing that he had stated the exact truth.
“Do you remember that Mrs. Gordon herself waged a losing battle in early days, incredible as it may appear?” asked Hadria.
Algitha nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the ground.