"It was all settled."
"No, it wasn't," answered the child. "Most of them were against it. And
then there was Mama," she added in a lower tone.
"What do you mean," asked Joan. "Didn't she wish it?"
The child raised her eyes. There was a dull anger in them. "Oh, what's
the good of pretending," she said. "He's so great. He could be the
Prime Minister of England if he chose. But then he would have to visit
kings and nobles, and receive them at his house, and Mama--" She broke
off with a passionate gesture of the small thin hands.
Joan was puzzled what to say. She knew exactly what she ought to say:
what she would have said to any ordinary child. But to say it to this
uncannily knowing little creature did not promise much good.
"Who told you I persuaded him?" she asked.
"Nobody," answered the child. "I knew."
Joan seated herself, and drew the child towards her.
"It isn't as terrible as you think," she said. "Many men who have risen
and taken a high place in the world were married to kind, good women
unable to share their greatness.
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