“We know that's got nothing to do with it. If I were dependent, I should feel I'd less right to choose——”
“But you're mistaken; that's not honesty, but egoism, on your part.”
Janet had nothing to answer; there was a pause, as if her father wished her to argue the point. She thought, perhaps, she had better say something, else she would show too plainly that she saw he was in the wrong; but she said nothing, and he went on: “And what will people say at the idea of your being a governess? Practically a servant in a stranger's house, with a pretence of equality, but less pay than a good cook. What will all our friends say?”
Janet did not wish to say to herself in so many words that her father was a snob. If he had left her alone, she would have been satisfied with the unacknowledged feeling that he attached importance to certain things.
“Surely people of understanding know there's no harm in being a governess, and I'm quite willing to be ignored by anyone who can't see that.”
These were the first words she spoke with any warmth.
“Selfishness again. It's not only your concern: what will your sister think and feel about it?”
“Gerty is sensible enough to think as I do; besides, she is very happy, and so has no right to dictate to other people about their affairs; indeed, she won't trouble about it—why should she? I'm not part of her.”
“You're unjust to Gertrude: your sister is too sweet and modest to wish to dictate to any one.”
“Exactly.” Janet could not help saying this one word, and yet she knew that it would irritate her father still more.