“Marriage,” said Mrs. Hilbery, coming into the room, and nodding her head once or twice, “I always say marriage is a school. And you don’t get the prizes unless you go to school. Charlotte has won all the prizes,” she added, giving her sister-in-law a little pat, which made Lady Otway more uncomfortable still. She half laughed, muttered something, and ended on a sigh.
“Aunt Charlotte was saying that it’s no good being married unless you submit to your husband,” said Katharine, framing her aunt’s words into a far more definite shape than they had really worn; and when she spoke thus she did not appear at all old-fashioned. Lady Otway looked at her and paused for a moment.
“Well, I really don’t advise a woman who wants to have things her own way to get married,” she said, beginning a fresh row rather elaborately.
Mrs. Hilbery knew something of the circumstances which, as she thought, had inspired this remark. In a moment her face was clouded with sympathy which she did not quite know how to express.
“What a shame it was!” she exclaimed, forgetting that her train of thought might not be obvious to her listeners. “But, Charlotte, it would have been much worse if Frank had disgraced himself in any way. And it isn’t what our husbands get, but what they are. I used to dream of white horses and palanquins, too; but still, I like the ink-pots best. And who knows?” she concluded, looking at Katharine, “your father may be made a baronet to-morrow.”
Lady Otway, who was Mr. Hilbery’s sister, knew quite well that, in private, the Hilberys called Sir Francis “that old Turk,” and though she did not follow the drift of Mrs. Hilbery’s remarks, she knew what prompted them.
“But if you can give way to your husband,” she said, speaking to Katharine, as if there were a separate under-
