settled to care whether or no she were hurt. "It is very hard to know what is right," she said presently. "Of course it is only a plan; I wondered how it would strike you."
"You had better leave Florimond alone," Miss Daintry answered. "I don't see why you should spread so many carpets for him. Let him shift for himself. If he doesn't like Boston, Boston can spare him."
"You are not nice about him; no, you are not, Lucretia!" Mrs. Daintry cried, with a slight tremor in her voice.
"Of course I am not as nice as you,—he is not my son; but I am trying to be nice about Rachel Torrance."
"I am sure she would like him,—she would delight in him," Mrs. Daintry broke out.
"That 's just what I 'm afraid of; I could n't stand that."
"Well, Lucretia, I am not convinced," Mrs. Daintry said, rising, with perceptible coldness. " It is very hard to be sure one is not unjust. Of course I shall not expect you to send for her; but I shall think of her with a good deal of compassion, all winter, in that dingy place in Brooklyn. And if you have some one else with you—and I am sure you will, because you always do, unless you remain alone on purpose, this year, to put me in the wrong,—if you have some one else I shall keep saying to myself: 'Well, after all, it might have been Rachel!'"
