“No, no, dear; I was always heavier. Never half so charming as you are.” “Well, but what is the use of my being charming, if it is to end in my being dull and not minding anything? Is that what marriage always comes to?” “No, child, certainly not. Marriage is the only happy state for a woman, as I trust you will prove.” “I will not put up with it if it is not a happy state. I am determined to be happy—at least not to go on muddling away my life as other people do, being and doing nothing remarkable. I have made up my mind not to let other people interfere with me as they have done. Here is some warm water ready for you, mamma,” Gwendolen ended, proceeding to take off her own dress and then waiting to have her hair wound up by her mamma. There was silence for a minute or two, till Mrs. Davilow said, while coiling the daughter’s hair, “I am sure I have never crossed you, Gwendolen.” “You often want me to do what I don’t like.” “You mean, to give Alice lessons?” “Yes. And I have done it because you asked me. But I don’t see why I should, else. It bores me to death, she is so slow. She has no ear for music, or language, or anything else. It would be much better for her to be ignorant, mamma: it is her _rôle_, she would do it well.” “That is a hard thing to say of your poor sister, Gwendolen, who is so good to you, and waits on you hand and foot.” “I don’t see why it is hard to call things by their right names, and put them in their proper places. The hardship is for me to have to waste my time on her. Now let me fasten up your hair, mamma.” “We must make haste; your uncle and aunt will be here soon. For heaven’s sake, don’t be scornful to _them_, my dear child! or to your cousin Anna, whom you will always be going out with. Do promise me, Gwendolen. You know, you can’t expect Anna to be equal to you.” “I don’t want her to be equal,” said Gwendolen, with a toss of her head and a smile, and the discussion ended there. When Mr. and Mrs. Gascoigne and their daughter came, Gwendolen, far from being scornful, behaved as prettily as possible to them. She was introducing herself anew to relatives who had not seen her since the comparatively unfinished age of sixteen, and she was anxious—no, not anxious, but resolved that they should admire her.