"Married?--of course!--why not?" and the eavesdropper fancied he could
see the wide-open gaze of well-bred English surprise that accompanied
the words. "One has to marry, of course. That is what we are created
for. But one doesn't make a fuss about it. It's only a custom--a
ceremony--and doesn't change existence much for most women, if they
choose sensibly. Of course there is always the chance of a
_mésalliance_! A woman has to risk that."

"And you don't--love?"

The Boy was struck by a note that was almost horror in the opaline voice
so near him.

"Love? Why, Opal, of course we do! It's easy to love, you know, when a
man is decent and half-way good to one. I am sure I think a great deal
of Algernon; but I dare say I should have thought as much of any other
man I had happened to marry. That is a wife's duty!"

"_Duty!_--and you call that love?" The horror in the tones had now
changed to scorn.

"You have strange ideas of life, Opal. I should be afraid to indulge
them if I were you--really I should! You have lived so much in books
that you seem to have a very garbled idea of the world. Fiction is apt
to be much of a fairy tale, a crazy exaggeration of what living really
consists of!"

"_Afraid?_ Why should I be afraid? I am an American girl, remember, and
Americans are afraid of nothing--nothing! Come, cousin, tell to me, if