“I feel very much grown up, and very old sometimes.”
“Oh, we all do at eighteen. Wait till you’re forty; then you’ll know what real youth is. If you were a boy now, instead of being a girl, you would have serious doubts about the existence of the Deity, and the most gloomy ideas regarding mankind generally. Why should I disapprove of anything you do?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Mother always predicts that our stubborn wills will cross some time, and——”
“Of course, of course. And false prophets shall arise. Don’t let that trouble you, Edna. If our wills become seriously opposed, we will come here to the downs and talk it all over. I’ll warrant we’ll hit on a compromise.”
“But suppose a compromise were not possible?”
“Dear me, Edna, what’s on your mind? You are talking in generalities and thinking in particulars. What is it, my girl?”
Edna shook her head.
“I don’t know why it is,” she said at last, “but I feel afraid of the future. It seems so uncertain, and I should never like anything to come between us.”
“Nonsense, Edna. What should come between us? All that is merely a little touch of the pessimism of youth, accentuated by the doleful fact that you are now a woman of independent means. Suppose our stubborn wills come into collision, as you fear, do you know what will happen?”
“What?”