“I? Oh, minding the house⁠—pouring out syrup⁠—pretending to be amiable and contented⁠—learning to have a bad opinion of everybody.”

“It is a wretched life for you.”

“No,” said Mary, curtly, with a little toss of her head. “I think my life is pleasanter than your Miss Morgan’s.”

“Yes; but Miss Morgan is so uninteresting, and not young.”

“She is interesting to herself, I suppose; and I am not at all sure that everything gets easier as one gets older.”

“No,” said Rosamond, reflectively; “one wonders what such people do, without any prospect. To be sure, there is religion as a support. But,” she added, dimpling, “it is very different with you, Mary. You may have an offer.”

“Has anyone told you he means to make me one?”