I waited for her to add what news she chose.
"It seems," she said, "that my husband has a cousin, a pupil of Mrs.
Frothingham's. You can imagine!"
"I can imagine Mrs. Frothingham may lose a pupil."
"No; my husband says his Uncle Archibald always was a fool. But how
can anyone be so narrow! He seemed to take Mrs. Frothingham as a
personal affront."
This was the most definite bit of vexation against her husband that
she had ever let me see. I decided to turn it into a jest. "Mrs.
Frothingham will be glad to know she was understood," I said.
"But seriously, why can't men have open minds about politics and
money?" She went on in a worried voice: "I knew he was like this
when I met him at Harvard. He was living in his own house, aloof
from the poorer men--the men who were most worth while, it seemed to
me. And when I told him of the bad effect he was having on these men
and on his own character as well, he said he would do whatever I
asked--he even gave up his house and went to live in a dormitory. So
I thought I had some influence on him. But now, here is the same
thing again, only I find that one can't take a stand against one's
husband.
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