“Well, I’ve no doubt we could have scraped along.”
“Scraped along!” And she laughed again, but she was not nearly so amused as I was at hearing myself use such an expression. “I can’t imagine either of us, Israel, scraping along. We should have hated each other in a week.”
“We should never have done that, Sibella. We have a sub-consciousness of each other’s weaknesses, and we know each other’s good points better than anyone else could. We should always love each other.”
“I think, Israel, if I had not been so sure that you loved me, I should not have risked marrying Lionel. I could never have believed that good looks could bore one so soon.”
“I believe that good-looking people who are stupid get on one’s nerves sooner than plain people who are stupid. The latter do feel that they must make an effort. The former are supremely well contented, and seldom take the trouble to make themselves agreeable.”
“Lionel is not only stupid, he is a little vulgar.”
Sibella’s frank recognition of the faults of her belongings had always been in striking contrast to Grahame’s loyalty, which would allow no disparagement of anyone he was allied to.
“I suppose we shall settle down one of these fine days,” continued Sibella. “We shall get tired of scheming for interviews, and plotting and planning our lives so as to make them fit with a secret.”
“My dear Sibella, I had no idea you were such a philosopher. I thought your reflections never carried you further than the moment.”
“Oh, I didn’t think it out myself. I read it in a book, but I feel it to be true, all the same.”