"
"Oh, George!" said Clara, gazing around helplessly, "it is terrible,
isn't it?"
"Look at that rug you are sitting on," I said, glaring at a six by ten
modern French importation. "Cauliflowers contending with unicorns,
surrounded by a border of green roses and orange violets--expensive! And
until the lamp explodes or the pipes burst we have got to go on and on
and on living over that, and why?--because dear Isabel will be here once
a week!"
"I thought Isabel would have better taste," said Clara.
"She has--Isabel has perfect taste, depend upon it," I said, "she did it
on purpose!"
"George!"
"Exactly that. Have you noticed that married people give the most
impossible presents? It is revenge, my dear. Society has preyed upon
them. They will prey upon society. Wait until we get a chance!"
"It is awful!" said Clara.
"Let us continue. We have five French rugs; no two could live together.
Five rooms desecrated. Our drawing-room is Art Nouveau, furnished by
your Uncle James, who is strong and healthy and may live twenty years.
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