“Yes. Sometimes I think we are suffering vicariously for the good of generations of unborn women. If we maintain the right of women to live independently and to think for themselves, a future age will concede it as a matter of course. And yet one must be very sure of oneself to take up that independent stand. Are you sure?”
“I don’t quite understand,” answered Catherine.
“Only this, dear”—there was a lingering, protective stress on the last word that appealed to the lonely girl—“you seem to me one of those women who are independent by circumstance rather than by choice. One of those who proclaim aloud their independence at twenty and at thirty wail privately for the dependence they appear to scorn. One of those, in fact, who would seem more in her place with her foot on a cradle rocker than rushing over Europe accompanied only by a travelling trunk and a green ticket case.”
“Oh, you are mistaken, quite mistaken,” cried Catherine—“quite mistaken. I am not that kind of woman at all. And besides, if I were, what would be the good? Surely I am happier struggling by myself than making myself miserable over some man; for I can never marry, you know.”
“Never marry? But why?”
“I am so poor, and the only kind of man that I could think of would never look at an insignificant person like me. No, I shall never marry; and that being so, I would rather school myself to independence.”
“You goose! How little you know of men. But I can assure you that till you have made yourself miserable—or otherwise—over some man, you will be an incomplete and, so far, an ineffective character.”
Catherine was unconscious of what Margaret’s intuition led her to suspect, namely, that her conviction of insignificance and renewed enthusiasm for independence were due to Mr. Gray’s polite indifference at dinner. He now joined them, and Catherine immediately said “Good night” and disappeared. She did not know that his eyes were following her slim white figure as it disappeared between the festoons of Virginia creeper that draped the verandah.
“Don’t lecture me!” cried Margaret when she had gone. “I know what you are going to say.”
“Well?” asked her brother, raising his eyebrows.