“Anne!” Her sagacity was very rarely at fault. He knew it, and was somewhat alarmed. “But I can do nothing.”
“No. I do not know why you should. We know all about the man and his people. Rose is not a girl to act in haste.”
“Why, then, should we bother about it?” he said.
“We don’t: you will. And Margaret will fuss.”
“I am afraid so. Confound the men!”
“If Margaret had confounded you with other men twenty-four years ago, this catastrophe would not have been imminent to-day. Let us hold her responsible.”
“You have made me very unhappy, Anne. I can’t jest about it.”
“Then I can. I think I like him. I wish I had married myself—I mean, somebody else. Old maids are married to themselves, and that is the reason why they have a bad time.”
“Do you?”
“Not a bit! Go a-fishing, and hold your tongue.”