“Do you believe,” returned Kate, with some spirit, “that any man is to be made to marry against his will? There’s no force can do it.”
“But the force of flattery,” said young Meredith; “is a very powerful agent, Miss Leslie.”
“Then,” said Kate, laughing, “every match is a ‘take in,’ on that ground. Is not every bride flattered till she feels as if she had entered a new state of being? Is not every girl turned, for the time being, into a beauty? Do you suppose any body ever yet fell in love on the truth?”
“No, indeed,” replied the gentleman. “Truth’s kept where she should be, at the ‘bottom of a well.’ A most ill-bred personage, not fit for ‘good society,’ certainly.”
Then the conversation branched off to other matches, and to Annie’s surprise she heard these high-bred, delicate looking girls, talk of their friends making “dead sets” and “catches,” and of young men being “taken in,” in a style that struck her as decidedly vulgar. Kate, to turn the subject, asked Mr. Constant if he had been to the opera the night before.
“I looked in,” he replied. “Vita was screaming away as usual.”
“Oh, is not she horrid?” exclaimed Miss Hauton.
“The opera’s a bore,” pursued her sister. “Caradori’s detestable and Vita a horror. I hope they’ll get a new troupe next winter. I am sick of this set.”
“I thought you were fond of the opera,” remarked Kate. “You are there always.”
“Yes; we have a box, and one must go somewhere; but I was tired to death before the season was half over. Here, Mr. Meredith, hold this silk for me,” she continued, calling to the young gentleman, who was looking out of the window, meditating the possibility of making his escape to the refreshment of a cigar.