Carbuncle.
"I suppose so," said Lizzie, wondering at such a phenomenon in female
nature. But with this fact, understood between them to be a fact--namely,
that Lucinda would be sure to hate any man whom she might accept--they
both agreed that the marriage had better go on.
"She must take a husband some day, you know," said Mrs. Carbuncle.
"Of course," said Lizzie.
"With her good looks, it would be out of the question that she shouldn't
be married."
"Quite out of the question," repeated Lizzie.
"And I really don't see how she's to do better. It's her nature, you know.
I have had enough of it, I can tell you. And at the pension, near Paris,
they couldn't break her in at all. Nobody could ever break her in. You see
it in the way she rides."
"I suppose Sir Griffin must do it," said Lizzie, laughing.
"Well--that, or the other thing, you know." But there was no doubt about
this--whoever might break or be broken, the marriage must go on. "If you
don't persevere with one like her, Lady Eustace, nothing can be done."
Lizzie quite concurred. What did it matter to her who should break, or who
be broken, if she could only sail her own little bark without dashing it
on the rocks? Rocks there were.
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