Margot rose from her seat, flicking the crumbs off her lap with a fine disregard of the flower-wreathed carpet, and came over to a seat beside her sister.
“Now, shall I change briefs, and expatiate on the other side of the question? ... Why, Edie, every bit of this trouble depends on your attitude towards it, and on nothing else. You are all well; you are young; you adore each other; you have done nothing dishonourable; you have been able to pay your debts—what does the rest matter? Jack has had a big disappointment. Very well, but what’s the use of crying over spilt milk? Get a fresh jug, and try for cream next time! The children are too young to suffer, and think it’s fine fun to have no nursery, and live near Edgware Road. If you and Jack could just manage to think the same, you might turn it all into a picnic and a joke. Jack is strong and clever and industrious, and you have a rich father; humanly speaking, you will never want. Take it with a smile, dear! If you will smile, so will Jack. If you push things to the end, it rests with you, for he won’t fret if he sees you happy. He does love you, Edie! I’m not sentimental, but I think it must be just the most beautiful thing in the world to be loved like that. I should like some one to look at me as he does at you, with his eyes lighting up with that deep, bright glow. I’d live in an attic with my Jack, and ask for nothing more!”
The elder woman smiled—a smile eloquent of a sadder, maturer wisdom. She adored her husband, and gloried in the knowledge of his love of herself, but she knew that attics are not conducive to the continuance of devotion. Love is a delicate plant, which needs care and nourishment and discreet sheltering, if it is to remain perennially in bloom. The smile lingered on her lips, however; she rested her head against the cushions of her chair and cried gratefully—
“Oh, Margot, you do comfort me! You are so nice and human. Do you really, truly think I am taking things too seriously? Do you think I am depressing Jack? Wouldn’t he think me heartless if I seemed bright and happy?”
“Try it and see! You can decide according to the effect produced, but first you must have a tonic, to brace you for the effort. I’ve a new prescription, and we are going to Edgware Road to get it this very hour.”
“Quinine, I suppose. Esther and the boys can get it at the chemist’s, but really it will do roe no good.”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t. Mine is a hundred times more powerful.”
“Iron? I can’t take it. It gives me headaches.”
“It isn’t iron. Mine won’t give you a headache, unless the pins get twisted. It’s a finer specific for low spirits feminine, than any stupid drugs. A new hat!”
Edith stared, and laughed, and laughed again.