To this Karen, glancing at Mrs. Talcott in a slight bewilderment, was able to say nothing, and Mrs. Talcott pursued, resuming her former tone: "There's another upsetting thing about marriage, Karen, and that is that you can't expect your families to feel about each other like you feel. It isn't in nature that they should, and that's one of the things that young married people can't make up their minds to. Now Mr. Jardine isn't the sort of young man to care about many people; few and far between they are, I should infer, and Mercedes ain't one of them. Mercedes wouldn't appeal to him one mite. I saw that as plain as could be from the first." "He should have told me so," said Karen, with her rocky face and voice. "Well, he didn't tell you he found her attractive, did he?" "No. But though I saw that there was blindness, I thought it was because he did not know her. I thought that when he knew her he would care for her. And I could forgive his not caring. I could forgive so much. But it is worse, far worse than that. He accuses Tante of dreadful things. It is hatred that he feels for her. He has confessed it." The colour had risen to Karen's cheeks and burned there as she spoke. "Well now!" Mrs. Talcott imperturbably ejaculated. "You can see that I could not live with a man who hated Tante," said Karen. "What sort of things for instance?" Mrs. Talcott took up her former statement. "How can I tell you, Mrs. Talcott. It burns me to think of them. Hypocrisy in her feeling for me; selfishness and tyranny and deceit. It is terrible. In his eyes she is a malignant woman." "Tch! Tch!" Mrs. Talcott made an indeterminate cluck with her tongue.