"Laurence! You shouldn't lose your temper with the horses," remonstrated Mary.
"They have to know who's master," he answered curtly. "But you make me angry, talking that way about yourself. You're not thirty yet, and you want to live like an old woman! Why don't you put on a cap and spectacles?"
"Well, my mother wore a cap when she was thirty. At thirty a woman can't pretend to be young," said Mary, smiling.
"Pooh, your mother! A woman with your looks, too! You'd be more beautiful than ever if you'd take care of yourself. You haven't ever worn that silk dress I brought you months ago."
"Oh, I haven't had it made up—it's much too gay, Laurence! You know I never wear colours."
"Well, you ought to.... I should think you might want to please me, once in a while.... But you women! All you think about is children, and a man can go hang himself, for all you care. You wouldn't even want him around, if you could have children without him!"
"How you talk! Anybody would think you didn't care about the children!"
"I care a lot more about you than I do about them—but it isn't the same with you. What's the use of having children if nobody's going to enjoy life—if everybody's just to go along doing their duty and raising up another generation to do the same thing? Hey, what's the use of it?"
"I don't think the use of it is enjoyment," said Mary. "It isn't meant to be."