FRANCES TREBELL. I don't know. Perhaps I had no vitality to spare.

LADY DAVENPORT. That boy is a long time proposing to Lucy.

_This effectually startles the other two from their conversational
reverie._

MRS. FARRANT. Walter? I'm not sure that he means to. She means to marry him
if he does.

FRANCES TREBELL. Has she told you so?

MRS. FARRANT. No. I judge by her business-like interest in his welfare.

FRANCES TREBELL. He's beginning to feel the responsibility of manhood ...
doesn't know whether to be frightened or proud of it.

LADY DAVENPORT. It's a pretty thing to watch young people mating. When
they're older and marry from disappointment or deliberate choice, thinking
themselves so worldly-wise....

MRS. FARRANT, [_Back to her politely cynical mood._] Well ... then at least
they don't develop their differences at the same fire-side, regretting the
happy time when neither possessed any character at all.

LADY DAVENPORT. [_Giving a final douche of common sense._] My dear, any two
reasonable people ought to be able to live together.

FRANCES TREBELL. Granted three sitting rooms. That'll be the next