I'll tell
you, Irene, I want to break off, for good and all, and I'm afraid.
It's a hard thing to do."
"Now I understand you. Do you think"--Irene added in another tone
--"that it's well to be what they call in love with the man one
marries?"
"Think? Of course I do!"
"Many people doubt it. We are told that French marriages are often
happier than English, because they are arranged with a practical
view, by experienced people."
"It depends," replied Olga, with a half-disdainful smile, "what one
calls happiness. I, for one, don't want a respectable, plodding,
money-saving married life. I'm not fit for it. Of course some people
are."
"Then, you could never bring yourself to marry a man you merely
liked--in a friendly way?"
"I think it horrible, hideous!" was the excited reply. "And yet"--
her voice dropped--"it may not be so for some women. I judge only
by myself."
"I suspect, Olga, that some people are never in love--never could
be in that state."
"I daresay, poor things!"
Irene, though much in earnest, was moved to laugh.
"After all, you know," she said, "they have less worry."
"Of course they have, and live more useful lives, if it comes to
that."
"A useful life isn't to be despised, you know."
Olga looked at her cousin; so fixedly that Irene had to turn away,
and in a moment spoke as though changing the subject.
"Have you heard that Mr.
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