“True.” My voice was a little rough. I had mistaken her.
“But there is no society here!” And she tossed her head a little contemptuously.
“Not much fashionable society I will grant you, Delia.”
She pursed up her lips and looked disagreeable.
“I shall die of ennui before six months. What am I to do with myself?”
“Act like a true woman,” said I, firmly.
She lifted her eyes suddenly to my face as if I had presumed.
“Do your duty as a wife and mother,” I added, “and there will be no danger of your dying with ennui.”
“You speak as if I were derelict in this matter.”
She drew herself up with some dignity of manner.