"
"Don't you think she will yet?" said Mrs. George.
Mrs. Frederick shook her crimped head sagely.
"Not now. The whole thing has hardened too long.
Her pride will never let her speak. We used to hope she would
be tricked into it by forgetfulness or accident--we used to lay
traps for her--but all to no effect. It is such a shame, too.
They were made for each other. Do you know, I get cross
when I begin to thrash the whole silly affair over like this.
Doesn't it sound as if we were talking of the quarrel of two
school-children? Of late years we have learned that it does not do
to speak of Lucinda to Romney, even in the most commonplace way.
He seems to resent it."
"HE ought to speak," cried Mrs. George warmly. "Even if she
were in the wrong ten times over, he ought to overlook it
and speak first."
"But he won't. And she won't. You never saw two such determined mortals.
They get it from their grandfather on the mother's side--
old Absalom Gordon. There is no such stubbornness on the Penhallow side.
His obstinacy was a proverb, my dear--actually a proverb.
What ever he said, he would stick to if the skies fell.
He was a terrible old man to swear, too," added Mrs. Frederick,
dropping into irrelevant reminiscence.
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