Damaged Goods | Page 8

so long."
"But, mother, I have YOU," said George generously.
"Some day the Lord may take me away," was the reply. "I am getting old. And, George,
dear--" Here suddenly her voice began to tremble with feeling-- "I would like to see my
baby grandchildren before I go. You cannot imagine what it would mean to me."
Madame Dupont saw how much this subject distressed her son, so she went on to the
more worldly aspects of the matter. Henriette's father was well-to-do, and he would give
her a good dowry. She was a charming and accomplished girl. Everybody would consider
him most fortunate if the match could be arranged. Also, there was an elderly aunt to
whom Madame Dupont had spoken, and who was much taken with the idea. She owned a
great deal of property and would surely help the young couple.
George did not see just how he could object to this proposition, even if he had wanted to.
What reason could he give for such a course? He could not explain that he already had a
family--with stepchildren, so to speak, who adored him. And what could he say to his
mother's obsession, to which she came back again and again--her longing to see her
grandchildren before she died? Madame Dupont waited only long enough for George to
stammer out a few protestations, and then in the next breath to take them back; after
which she proceeded to go ahead with the match. The family lawyers conferred together,
and the terms of the settlement were worked out and agreed upon. It happened that
immediately afterwards George learned of an opportunity to purchase the practice of a
notary, who was ready to retire from business in two months' time. Henriette's father
consented to advance a portion of her dowry for this purpose.
Thus George was safely started upon the same career as his father, and this was to him a
source of satisfaction which he did not attempt to deny, either to himself of to any one
else. George was a cautious young man, who came of a frugal and saving stock. He had
always been taught that it was his primary duty to make certain of a reasonable amount of

comfort. From his earliest days, he had been taught to regard material success as the
greatest goal in life, and he would never have dreamed of engaging himself to a girl
without money. But when he had the good fortune to meet one who possessed desirable
personal qualities in addition to money, he was not in the least barred from appreciating
those qualities. They were, so to speak, the sauce which went with the meat, and it
seemed to him that in this case the sauce was of the very best.
George--a big fellow of twenty-six, with large, round eyes and a good-natured
countenance--was full blooded, well fed, with a hearty laugh which spoke of unimpaired
contentment, a soul untroubled in its deeps. He seemed to himself the luckiest fellow in
the whole round world; he could not think what he had done to deserve the good fortune
of possessing such a girl as Henriette. He was ordinarily of a somewhat sentimental turn--
easily influenced by women and sensitive to their charms. Moreover, his relationship
with Lizette had softened him. He had learned to love the young working girl, and now
Henriette, it seemed, was to reap the benefit of his experience with her.
In fact, he found himself always with memories of Lizette in his relationships with the
girl who was to be his wife. When the engagement was announced, and he claimed his
first kiss from his bride-to-be, as he placed a ring upon her finger, he remembered the
first time he had kissed Lizette, and a double blush suffused his round countenance.
When he walked arm and arm with Henriette in the garden he remembered how he had
walked just so with the other girl, and he was interested to compare the words of the two.
He remembered what a good time had had when he had taken Lizette and her little family
for a picnic upon one of the excursion steamers which run down the River Seine.
Immediately he decided that he would like to take Henriette on such a picnic, and he
persuaded an aunt of Henriette's to go with her as a chaperon. George took his bride-to-be
to the same little inn where he had lunch before.
Thus he was always haunted by memories, some of which made him cheerful and some
of which made him mildly sad. He soon got used to the idea, and did not find it awkward,
except when he had to suppress the impulse to tell Henriette something which Lizette had
said, or some funny incident