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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Mary Marston"

"
"But, surely, that is not a situation fit for one like you,
Mary!" cried Letty, almost in consternation; for, notwithstanding
her opposition to her aunt's judgment in the individual case of
her friend, Letty's own judgments, where she had any, were mostly
of this world. "I suppose you are a kind of--of--companion to
your lady-friend?"
"Or a kind of lady's-maid, or a kind of dressmaker, or a kind of
humble friend--something like a dog, perhaps--only not to be
quite so much loved and petted; In truth, Letty, I do not know
what I am, or what I am going to be; but I shall find out before
long, and where's the use of knowing, any more than anything else
before it's wanted?"
"You take my breath away, Mary! The thing doesn't seem at all
like you! It's not consistent!--Mary Marston in a menial
position! I can't get a hold of it!"
"You remind me," said Mary, laughing, "of what my father said to
Mr. Turnbull once. They were nearer quarreling then than ever I
saw them. You remember my father's way, Letty--how he would say a
thing too quietly even to smile with it? I can't tell you what a
delight it is to me to talk to anybody that knew him!--Mr.
Turnbull imagined he did not know what he was about, for the
thoughts my father was thinking could not have lived a moment in
Mr. Turnbull. 'You see, John Turnbull,' my father said, 'no man
can look so inconsistent as one whose principles are not
understood; for hardly in anything will that man do as his friend
must have thought he would.


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