After lunch Aunt Plessington took her little Madge for an energetic walk, and showed herself far more observant than the egotism of her conversation at that meal might have led one to suppose. Or perhaps she was only better informed. Aunt Plessington loved a good hard walk in the afternoon; and if she could get any one else to accompany her, then Hubert stayed at home, and curled up into a ball on a sofa somewhere, and took a little siesta that made him all the brighter for the intellectual activities of the evening. The thought of a young life, new, untarnished, just at the outset, just addressing itself to the task of getting on, always stimulated her mind extremely, and she talked to Marjorie with a very real and effectual desire to help her to the utmost of her ability. She talked of a start in life, and the sort of start she had had. She showed how many people who began with great advantages did not shove sufficiently, and so dropped out of things and weren't seen and mentioned. She defended herself for marrying Hubert, and showed what a clever shoving thing it had been to do. It startled people a little, and made them realize that here was a woman who wanted something more in a man than a handsome organ-grinder. She made it clear that she thought a clever marriage, if not a startlingly brilliant one, the first duty of a girl. It was a girl's normal gambit. She branched off to the things single women might do, in order to justify this view. She did not think single women could do very much. They might perhaps shove as suffragettes, but even there a husband helped tremendously--if only by refusing to bail you out. She ran over the cases of a number of prominent single women. "And what," said Aunt Plessington, "do they all amount to? A girl is so hampered and an old maid is so neglected," said Aunt Plessington. She paused. "Why don't you up and marry Mr. Magnet, Marjorie?" she said, with her most brilliant flash. "It takes two to make a marriage, aunt," said Marjorie after a slight hesitation. "My dear child! he worships the ground you tread on!" said Aunt Plessington. "He's rather--grown up," said Marjorie. "Not a bit of it. He's not forty. He's just the age." "I'm afraid it's a little impossible." "Impossible?" "You see I've refused him, aunt." "Naturally--the first time! But I wouldn't send him packing the second." There was an interval. Marjorie decided on a blunt question. "Do you really think, aunt, I should do well to marry Mr. Magnet?" "He'd give you everything a clever woman needs," said Aunt Plessington. "Everything."