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"That's what people mean when they talk about marrying for love, and it
generally ends in poverty and misery, and sensible women have nothing to
do with it. Look at me," she said, spitting on the bottom of her iron,
"do you think I married for love when I married the colonel? No indeed!
'Here's a quiet respectable man with a nice income,' I said, 'and if I
put my little bit to his little bit we'll get along comfortably if he
_is_ a taste in years,' I said. Look at your mother, though. She was one
of the marrying-for-love kind, and if we had let her have her way where
would she have been afterwards with her fifteen years as an invalid? And
where would you have been by this time? No," said Aunt Bridget, bringing
down her flat-iron with a still heavier bang, "a common-sense marriage,
founded on suitability of position and property, and all that, is the
only proper sort of match. And that's what's before you now, girl, so
for goodness' sake don't go about like the parish pan, letting every
busybody make mischief with you.


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