Talk of pride or dignity. She has none.
Pride--yes, a nice kind of pride that lives on lies and falsities of
every description! But she cannot deceive me, thank Heaven; I can
read her through and through."
"In some instances, my dear, your boasted accomplishment is not
always of the most agreeable kind," said Mr. Montgomery, in his
bland, easy manner.
"Never mind that part of it. I can bear it, since it gives the
preciousness of seeing people as they are, their shallowness and
their shams. Is there anything genuine in this every-day world?
Really, each day I see something to disgust me."
The speaker's face gave proof to her speech as she fixed upon her
husband a long, earnest look.
"Poor Marguerite it should be instead of Poor Evelyn. It is the pure
minded girl that is to be pitied. Marguerite is the victim of this
freak. Matilda will drag that child to the four corners of the earth
to accomplish her ends."
"My dear, you are severe. Have some moderation," said Mr.
Montgomery, in a conciliating tone.
"Moderation!" retorted the self-reliant wife--"moderation towards a
weak-minded, unscrupulous fortune-hunter and match-maker--a despiser
of those genuine graces which adorn the female mind and make woman
what she should be.
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