XVIII
"You simply must not worry yourself about it so, Nancy, my darling," says
Mrs. Ellicott brightly. "Lovers' quarrels are only lovers' quarrels you
know and they seem very small indeed to people a little older and more
experienced though I daresay they may loom terribly large just at present.
Why your father and myself used to have--ahem--our little times over
_trifles_, darling, mere _trifles _" and Mrs. Ellicott takes a pinch of
air between finger and thumb as if to display it as a specimen of those
mere trifles over which Mr. and Mrs. Ellicott used to become proudly
enraged at each other in the days before she had faded him so completely.
Nancy, after a night of intensive sleeplessness broken only by dreams of
seeing Oliver being married to somebody else in the lobby of the Hotel
Rosario can only wonder rather dully when it could ever have been that
poor father was allowed enough initiative of his own to take even the
passive part in a quarrel over a trifle and why mother thinks the prospect
implied in her speech of her daughter's marriage being like unto hers can
be so comforting.
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