“I expect to get work,” said Elsie.
“Don’t be ridiculous, child,” said her mother. “What work can you possibly do?”
“Oh, there are lots of things,—stenography,—private secretary, open a tea room—”
“Elsie,” and Gerty looked very stern. “Do try to talk sense! If you’re really thinking you can do those things, let me remind you that stenography requires a year, at least, for tuition and practice; a tea room requires capital, influence and a special adaptation for that sort of thing,—which you haven’t got. As for a private secretary, you’re about the least fitted for that of any one I know! You can’t keep your own desk in order, or your own correspondence looked after. You’re for ever forgetting engagements, and you’re accustomed to an idle life, getting up when you choose and being absolute mistress of your time. You couldn’t adapt yourself to routine work, or to being always at the beck and call of anybody, so you couldn’t make a success of any of those things. The result would be that instead of providing a home, you would be everlastingly sent back home from your work because of your failure to give satisfaction.”
Elsie looked at her sister, a dumb acquiescence in her big brown eyes. They had a hunted expression, as of a frightened fawn at bay.
“Then, what can I do! Oh, Gerty, help me! You’re my older sister, give me some real help—tell me some way I can satisfy you and mother, and not—not be sold like a slave in the market!”
“Dear child,” and Gerty became suddenly suave and gentle, “it isn’t being sold to give yourself to some good and worthy man. And, it is as your loving elder sister that I advise you as I do. I speak truly, when I tell you you could never earn your living at any business. In this day, skilled labour is required; the services of experienced, efficient girls are demanded and a beginner, a learner, has no chance at all. Now, marriage, with a true-hearted, honourable man, is the best lot that could befall you,—”
“Without love!”
“Love will come. No woman can remain insensible to the devotion of a loving husband. Fenn Whiting—”
“I won’t marry Fenn Whiting! I hate him!”