But to Edna’s secret plan. If you are a married man you will at once understand what I mean when I speak of having a vague sensation of being borne down upon. She said nothing; she did nothing. But I knew she was making ready to ask something to which she believed she could get my consent only by the use of all her tact and skill and charm--for she did not know her charms had ceased to charm, but thought them more potent than ever. I waited with patience and composure; and in due time she began cautious open approaches. “Margot is almost ready to come out,” said she. “Money?” said I, smiling. She rebuked this coarseness amiably. “_Everybody_ isn’t _always_ thinking of money, dear,” said she. “But why talk to _me_ about anything else? That’s my only department in the family.” She deigned a smile for my pleasantry, then went on in her usual serious way: “I wish to consult you about her education.” “Oh--finish as you’ve begun,” said I. “I suppose it’s the best that can be done for a girl.” “But I can’t find what I want,” said she, with an expression of sweet maternal solicitude. “I’ve always been determined Margot should have the best education any girl in the whole world could get.” “Go ahead,” said I. “See that she gets it.” “She shall have the perfect equipment of a lady--of a woman of the world,” continued Edna, with growing enthusiasm. “She has the beauty to set it off--and we can afford to give it to her. I am willing to make any sacrifices that may be necessary.” I pricked up my ears. I always do when anyone, male or female, uses that word sacrifice. I know a piece of selfishness is coming. “As I was saying,” pursued Edna, with the serene look of the self-confident woman who is taking her husband in firm, strong hands, “I have been unable to find what I want for her. Mrs. Armitage tells me I’ll not find it except in Paris.” “Well--why not go to Paris?” said I. Did you ever lift an empty box that you thought full and heavy? My wife looked as if she had just done that exceedingly uncomfortable thing. “But I don’t see-- I--I-- It would be a terrible sacrifice to have to go and live in Paris,” stammered she. “Then don’t do it,” said I. “But I must think of Margot!” exclaimed she hastily. “Oh, Margot seems to be stepping along all right. She’ll never miss what she doesn’t know about.” “But you must realize, dear, what an education she’d get in Paris. And I suppose it would do me good, too. It’s a shame that I don’t speak French. Everyone except me speaks it. They all had French governesses when they were children.” “Some of them had--and some hadn’t,” said I. “Armitage has told me things about your friends that make me suspect they’re doing fully as much bluffing as we are.” She winced, and sighed the sigh of the lady patient with a low husband. “Then you think I ought to go?” said she. “I think you ought to do as you like,” said I. “I always have thought so. I always shall.”