Hadria glanced towards him and made no comment. She was thinking of Mrs. Jordan’s daughters.
“What became of their personality all that time I cannot imagine: their woman’s nature that one hears so much about, and from which such prodigious feats were to be looked for, in the future.”
“Yes, that is where the inconsistency of a girl’s education strikes me most,” said Lady Engleton. “If she were intended for the cloister one could understand it. But since she is brought up for the express purpose of being married, it does seem a little absurd not to prepare her a little more for her future life.”
“Exactly,” cried Hadria, “if the orthodox are really sincere in declaring that life to be so sacred and desirable, why on earth don’t they treat it frankly and reverently and teach their girls to understand and respect it, instead of allowing a furtive, sneaky, detestable spirit to hover over it?”
“Yes, I agree with you there,” said Lady Engleton.
“And if they don’t really in their hearts think it sacred and so on (and how they can, under our present conditions, I fail to see), why do they deliberately bring up their girls to be married, as they bring up their sons to a profession? It is inconceivable, and yet good people do it, without a suspicion of the real nature of their conduct, which it wouldn’t be polite to describe.”
Mrs. Jordan—her face irradiated with satisfaction—was acknowledging the plaudits of the villagers, who shouted more or less in proportion to the eye-filling properties of the departing guests.
Hadria was seized with a fit of laughter. It was an awkward fact, that she never could see Mrs. Jordan’s majestic form and noble bonnet without feeling the same overwhelming impulse to laugh.
“This is disgraceful conduct!” cried Lady Engleton.
Hadria was clearly in one of her most reckless moods to-day.