"Nonsense," said Salmon, the practical, "what would Doane do with a wife? He has been wedded to journalism so long that he'd forget his matrimonial bonds."
"Men who are not journalists think such a course in fashion these days," said Olivia.
"Doane said to me the other day," remarked Mr. Connors, "that New York was getting very dull and commonplace; that men were beginning, actually, to fall in love with their own wives."
"Don't men always love and respect their wives?" asked Marie.
"Your arcadian simplicity is really refreshing," laughed Olivia.
"Pray, wise one," said Mr. Salmon, "don't endow her with your superior wisdom. I prefer my daughter as she is."
"That's the one great mistake made in our land today, in the rearing of children. They are allowed to grow up in utter ignorance of the things which, if they knew, would save them untold misery."
"Right you are, Miss Winters," said Mr. Connors. "If I should ever be fortunate enough to marry, and be blessed with a boy, I should show him around and acquaint him with life myself."
"Say and think what you will, ladies and gentlemen," said Marie, with firmness, "I shall never marry a man unless I love him and he loves me, and it will be my fault if I do not retain his devotion."
"Hold fast to that sentiment, my child," said Connors, solemnly, "and may faith in it never forsake you."
"Our carriage is below," said Salmon, "let us hasten to the church," and the company departed from the house.
