Pshaw, what did it matter? And yet...I thought of her as I had
seen her, standing under the pines, and something cold and
painful laid its hand on my heart.
My premonitions as to lovers proved correct. Glenby was soon
infested with them. Heaven knows where they all came from. I
had not supposed there was a quarter as many young men in the
whole county; but there they were. Sara was in the seventh
heaven of delight. Was not Betty at last a belle? As for the
proposals...well, Betty never counted her scalps in public; but
every once in a while a visiting youth dropped out and was seen
no more at Glenby. One could guess what that meant.
Betty apparently enjoyed all this. I grieve to say that she was
a bit of a coquette. I tried to cure her of this serious defect,
but for once I found that I had undertaken something I could not
accomplish. In vain I lectured, Betty only laughed; in vain I
gravely rebuked, Betty only flirted more vivaciously than before.
Men might come and men might go, but Betty went on forever. I
endured this sort of thing for a year and then I decided that it
was time to interfere seriously. I must find a husband for
Betty...my fatherly duty would not be fulfilled until I
had...nor, indeed, my duty to society. She was not a safe person
to have running at large.
None of the men who haunted Glenby was good enough for her. I
decided that my nephew, Frank, would do very well.
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