I gave up arguing with young people 50 years ago.
Your name was Beaufort when he covered you with jewels and it’s got to stay Beaufort now that he’s covered you with shame.
The entire family is difficult! Not one of them wants to be different. When they are different, they end up like Ellen’s parents. No masks. Continental wanderers, dragging Ellen about, lavishing on her an expensive but incoherent education. Out of all of them, I don’t believe there’s one that takes after me, but my little Ellen. You’ve got a quick eye. Why in the world didn’t you marry her?
Know each other? Everybody in New York has always known everybody. Don’t wait till the bubbles off the wine. Marry them before Lent. I may catch pneumonia any winter now and I want to give the Wedding Breakfast.
We should remember, marriage is marriage and Ellen is still a wife.
