"
"Do you mean our dish-washing?" I asked.
"Yes, certainly. You seem to enjoy menial work very much."
"It is woman's work, Mr. Winthrop, just as much as painting pictures or
studying German metaphysics is,--a much more important work for me, if
I marry a poor man and become my own maid of all work."
"Ah, indeed! you think, then, of becoming one of them. I mean one of your
own favorite class. I presume you have not yet selected the happy pauper
whose poverty you intend to share."
"Oh, no, I have not given the question of a husband, or settlement in
life any serious thought as yet. I was only supposing a case. One never
knows what may happen, and even royalties now and then are reduced to
genteel beggary."
"You are merely getting accustomed to the life, taking time by the
forelock, we might say," he said with an amused look. "Well, since you
are not altogether committed to that way of living, and in case your
dreams are not realized, we will continue the German metaphysics a little
longer. I got in a fresh supply of books on Saturday. I would like you to
come and look them over with me. You may see something you would like to
take up."
I thanked him and promised to join him shortly.
When we were alone Mrs. Flaxman said, with a reflective air, as she stood
polishing the cream jug; "I never expected to see Mr. Winthrop so nice to
a woman as he is to you."
"Why, Mrs. Flaxman, do you call him nice?" I asked in amazement.
"Yes, dear, beautifully so.
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