"I should think quite steady," said Mrs. Oldrieve, without one.

"And he would amuse Emmy all day long."

"I don't think it is part of a husband's duty, dear, to amuse his wife,"
said Mrs. Oldrieve.

The sudden entrance of Emmy, full of fresh air, laughter, and
chrysanthemums, put an end to the conversation; but thenceforward Zora
thought seriously of romantic possibilities. Like her mother, she did not
entirely approve of Emmy's London circle. It was characterized by too much
freedom, too great a lack of reticence. People said whatever came into
their minds, and did, apparently, whatever occurred to their bodies. She
could not quite escape from her mother's Puritan strain. For herself she
felt secure. She, Zora, could wander unattended over Europe, mixing without
spot or stain with whatever company she listed; that was because she was
Zora Middlemist, a young woman of exceptional personality and experience of
life. Ordinary young persons, for their own safe conduct, ought to obey the
conventions which were made with that end in view; and Emmy was an ordinary
young person. She should marry; it would conduce to her moral welfare, and
it would be an excellent thing for Septimus. The marriage was therefore
made in the unclouded heaven of Zora's mind. She shed all her graciousness
over the young couple. Never had Emmy felt herself enwrapped in more
sisterly affection. Never had Septimus dreamed of such tender solicitude.
Yet she sang Septimus's praises to Emmy and Emmy's praises to Septimus in
so natural a manner that neither of the two was puzzled.

"It is the natural instinct that makes every woman a matchmaker. She works
blindly towards the baby. If she cannot have one directly, she will have it