After all, put the thought away,
forget the inevitable future in an almost hysterical enjoyment of the
present, as she would, it must be faced some time. Could she possibly
marry this boy whom her sentimental contemporaneousness with his father
naturally seemed to relegate to a generation younger than herself?
It would be horrible, unnatural. A husband, be he ever so modern, and
his wife ever so unruly, is in the nature of things more or less a
master, whereas, she realised with a flash of very miserable amusement,
she would, if displeased with him, feel less inclined to use wifely
diplomacy than to box his ears. Emphatically, she had hopelessly
outgrown him. Then, what should she do?
If she refused him now, what would be his father's attitude? She did not
know. A week ago Joyselle would have hated her--or thought that he did,
which is practically the same thing _pro tem_.
But now! Now that the violinist had had time to face and measure his own
passion, would he not realise the futility of trying to force one's
inclinations in such matters? Again she could only shake her head; she
was out of her depth. Meantime, behind her, Theo was waiting for his
answer.
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