I understand. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. ‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father.
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