Edith had cursed her to her face, and with a sigh audible only to
herself she arose and said laughingly, "It's time we were off, and
you've certainly admired that figure in the glass long enough.
What do you think of yourself, any way?"
"Why," returned Edith, in the same light, bantering tone, "I think
I'm rather jolie, as I used to say. I wonder where I picked up
that word. Victor says I must have had a French nurse, but I'm
sure I was too poor for that. I wish I knew where I did come from
and who I am. It's terrible, this uncertainty as to one's birth. I
may be marrying my brother one of these days, who knows?"
"See rather that you do not marry your father," retorted Grace,
following Edith as she tripped down the stairs and down the walk,
whipping the tufts of box as she went, and answering to Grace who
asked if she did not sometimes find her duties irksome at
Collingwood. "Never, never. The links of my chains are all made of
love and so they do not chafe. Then, too, when I remember what
Richard has done for me and how few sources of happiness he has, I
am willing to give my whole life to him, if need be.
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