“I do wish you’d give me time to speak, Catherine. You spring this on me so suddenly.... I had no idea you were ever thinking of such a thing, to begin with. Even now it seems incredible to me. I can’t understand it.” “Can’t understand what?” “Why you want to do it ... it’s ... it’s unnecessary. Haven’t you enough money?” “Oh, it’s not a question of money. I want to have some work to do, something to get interested in.” “But you have the work of the house to carry on with. Surely that’s enough.” “Oh, _that’s_ enough. In fact, that’s a great deal too much. I’m sick and tired of housework. Some girls may like it, but I don’t. I’d sooner pay some girl who likes it to do it for me. Besides, I want to be independent.” He gave a start of surprise. “What’s that you said?” he asked, incredulously. “I said, independent.” There was a tense pause. “Somebody’s been putting some silly modern ideas into your head. All that bosh about independence, I mean. A girl’s place is in the home, when she’s got one. Until you make a home of your own your place is here.” “I suppose you think I ought to get married.” “Married? ... Heavens, no! ... You’re only nineteen! Why, I never even _met_ your mother until I was twenty-four! Don’t you worry your head about marriage. Let it alone until the right feller comes along. I expect you’ve been reading too many trashy novels lately, that’s what it is.” An angry light leapt into her eyes. “Well, if you think I’m going to scrub floors and wash dishes until the right feller comes along, as you call it, you’re jolly well mistaken. I wouldn’t do it even if I was sure the right feller _would_ come along. I’m not made that way. I want a bit of liberty. I want to live.” “My dear Catherine, you have everything you need. I can’t see what you’re making all this fuss about. Really I can’t.... You’re a good deal better off than some girls, I can tell you. What about poor Nellie Selborne and----” “Oh, what on _earth_ have they got to do with it?” “Well, if you won’t listen to me, I suppose ...” He waved his hand deprecatingly. “Suppose we stop arguing. Let’s hold the matter over. I’m certain that with a few days’ thought you’ll----” “But I can’t hold the matter over.” “Why not?” “Because the situation’s been offered me. I’ve either got to accept it or reject it on the spot.” “Well, Catherine, I’m sorry to go against you, but it will have to be so, in this case. Understand, I mean it. I mean to have my own way in this matter. I won’t have you strumming away every night in a third-rate picture house. I’m going to put my foot down firmly in this matter. You must reject the offer.” He made a gallant but not entirely successful attempt to appear dignified by resuming the perusal of his newspaper. Catherine bit her lip and went a little pale. “That’s a pity,” she said quietly. “Why is it a pity?” “Because I’ve decided to accept it.” Her lips were tight, and there was the suggestion of restrained emotion in her voice.