“You and I, Sylvia, George, Wainbridge, and Launa.”
“Too respectable, married and dull. We are to do wedded felicity, while they seek to imitate us. They are known to be desirous of so doing.”
“Who else can I ask?”
“Sir Ralph, Lady Hastings. Leave out Launa and Mr. Wainbridge. Sylvia and Mr. George will do, if she can come. She is still moon-struck, or lord-struck, or virtue-struck. Why did she send him away? She will never marry Mr. George.”
“I thought Launa was your friend?”
“So she is.”
“I do not advise anyone to marry, do you? It is an uncertain, disquieting bondage, even our way.”
“Even our way,” she repeated.
Jack thought he detected a sign of disappointment in her acquiescence. It is all very well to abuse oneself while seeking contradiction, but to have one’s husband call the joy of matrimony uncertain—that brings uneasiness into the mind of the wife.
Lily ate some toast, and felt disappointed. He did not love her more because of her inaccessibility.