married? Oh, I know I have no business to ask such a question: it is fearfully rude I know, but I have wondered so often. You are lovely now, and you must have been beautiful when you were a girl.
Lucy.No, I wasn't—I was barely pretty.
Agnes. I can't believe that.
Lucy.And I am not going to accept your description of me now as a true one; although I confess I am vain enough—even in my present old age—to look in the glass occasionally, and say to myself: "You are better-looking now than you ever were."
Agnes.Well, at all events you were always an angel.
Lucy.And men don't like angels; besides—I was poor.
Agnes.You were not poor when you got Aunt Emily's money,
Lucy.No, but then it was too——— I mean I then had no wish to marry.
Agnes.You mean you determined to sacrifice yourself for us, that is what you mean.
Lucy.I must have possessed a very prophetic soul then, or been gifted with second sight, as none of you, except Reginald, were born. But to come back to your friend, Agnes; has she no money?
Agnes.No, none.
Lucy.Nor he?
Agnes.Not a penny.
Lucy.And they want to get married?
Agnes.Yes.
Lucy.And are afraid they haven't enough.
Agnes.They certainly haven't.
Lucy.Then why don't they apply to some friend or relative who has more than enough; say, to an aunt, for instance.
