“But Margaret, what would become of the world?  If there were fewer marriages—­Heaven knows they’re few enough nowadays—­there would be fewer families—­and in the end fewer children—­less and less——­”

“They’d be better children,” said Margaret, calmly.

“Eventually the race would die out.”

“And that’d be a good thing—­if the people can’t love each other.”

“How silly—­exasperating!” ejaculated Mrs. Maynard.  “You don’t mean such nonsense.  What any girl wants is a home of her own, a man to fuss over.  I didn’t marry for love, as you dream it.  My husband attended to his business and I’ve looked after his household.  You’ve had every advantage.  I flatter myself our marriage has been a success.”

Margaret’s eyes gleamed like pointed flames.

“I differ with you.  Your married life hasn’t been successful any more than it’s been happy.  You never cared for father.  You haven’t been kind to him since his failure.”

Mrs. Maynard waved her hand imperiously in angry amaze.

“I won’t stop.  I’m not a baby or a doll,” went on Margaret, passionately.  “If I’m old enough to marry I’m old enough to talk.  I can think, can’t I?  You never told me anything, but I could see.  Ever since I can remember you and father have had one continual wrangle about money—­bills—­expenses.  Perhaps I’d have been better off without all the advantages and luxury.  It’s because of these things you want to throw me at some man.  I’d far rather go to work the same as Blaid did, instead of college.”

“Whatever on earth has come over you?” gasped Mrs. Maynard, bewildered by the revolt of this once meek daughter.

“Maybe I’m learning a little sense.  Maybe I got some of it from Daren Lane,” flashed back Margaret.

“Mother, whatever I’ve learned lately has been learned away from home.  You’ve no more idea what’s going on in the world to-day than if you were actually dead.  I never was bright like Mel Iden, but I’m no fool.  I see and hear and I read.  Girls aren’t pieces of furniture to be handed out to some rich men.  Girls are waking up.  They can do things.  They can be independent.  And being independent doesn’t mean a girl’s not going to marry.  For she can wait—­wait for the right man—­for love....  You say I dream.  Well, why didn’t you wake me up long ago—­with the truth?  I had my dreams about love and marriage.  And I’ve learned that love and marriage are vastly different from what most mothers make them out to be, or let a girl think.”

“Margaret, I’ll not have you talk in this strange way.  You owe me respect if not obedience,” said Mrs. Maynard, her voice trembling.

“Oh, well, I won’t say any more,” replied Margaret, “But can’t you spare me?  Couldn’t we live within our means?”

“After all these years—­to skimp along!  I couldn’t endure it.”

“Whom have you in mind for me to—­to marry?” asked the girl, coldly curious.