human
It's dreadfully difficult when one's girls grow up, she said plaintively.
gpt
One can be comfortable about them, poor darlings, and enjoy them when they are in the nursery--even in the schoolroom, though governesses are worrying. They know so much about quantities of subjects which seem to me not to matter. One never refers to them in ordinary conversation; and if one should be obliged to it is so easy to ask somebody to tell one. And yet they manage to make me feel dreadfully uncomfortable and ignorant because I know nothing about them. But when they grow up----
human
Who, the governesses? Lord Fallowfeild inquired.
gpt
I never supposed they stood in need of that process--thought they started out of the egg all finished, as you might say, and ran about at once like chickens.
human
No, no, the girls, poor darlings, Lady Constance replied.
gpt
One does get dreadfully anxious about them, Shotover, really one does--specially if one has escaped something very frightening oneself and has been very happy--lest they should fall in love with the wrong people, or lest they should be anything which one did not know beforehand and then everything should turn out dreadful. I should be so miserable. I don't think I could bear it. I know it is wrong to say that, because if one was really good, one would accept whatever God sent without murmuring. So I could for myself, I think. In any case I should earnestly try to. But for the children it is so much harder. If they were unhappy I should feel ashamed of having had them--as if I'd done something horribly selfish; because, you see, there can be nothing so delightful as having children.