In Green's Jungles by Gene Wolfe

marriage is and how terrible it was for her. She's been married five times and outlived all her husbands. Papa's father wasn't even the last one. To hear her tell it, it's awful being mar ried and being widowed is worse, and I know she's saying all that because she thinks I'll never be married and she doesn't want me unhappy. But I'm unhappy anyway."
    I told her, "Married couples must endure a great deal of unhappiness, Mora. So do single people. There is also a great deal of happiness in both states. That being so, what is the point of blaming the married state or the unmarried state? Or praising either one?" As I spoke, I thought of Maytera Mint; but I said nothing about her.
    "I want to get married."
    "Do you, Mora? Really?"
    "Yes, as soon as I can. I want somebody who will love me always."
    "Good girl," Oreb remarked.
    "Your father and grandmother love you, but you blame them for your unhappiness."
    She was silent for some time after I said that; I could see that she was thinking, and I let the silence grow.
    "If I were more like the other girls, the town girls, they'd like me more."
    "Or less. If you lived here in town, as they do, your size and strength, your slow speech and quick mind, and the strong, sensual face that you will possess when you are a woman would affront them at every turning. Your father likes me, and because he does, all the townsfolk treat me with respect. Would I be respected as much if I had been born three streets from here?"
    She shook her head.
    "You don't feel that life has treated you fairly. That is not a question. Everything you've said this morning confirms it. Your mother died while you were still an infant, I know, and that is hard, very hard. I sympathize with you deeply and sincerely because of it. But in every other respect your lot is far above the average."
    "I don't think so!"
    "Naturally you don't. Almost no one does. What would be fair, Mora?"
    "For everyone to be even."
    "Everyone is. Listen carefully, please. If you won't listen now, you may as well go. Last night someone told me that you could outrun all the other girls, that when you run races at your palaestra you always win. I suppose that it was Fava-"
    "Bad thing!" (This from Oreb.)
    "Who must run very poorly."
    Mora said, "She doesn't run at all. There's something the matter with her legs, so she's excused."
    "Are the races fair, and do you win them?"
    Mora nodded.
    "What makes them fair?"
    "Everybody starts even."
    "But some girls can run faster than the others, so they're bound to win. Don't you see how unfair that must seem to the losers? Mora, there is only one rule in life, and it applies to everyone equally-to me, to you, to all the girls at your palaestra, and even to Fava. It is that each of us is entitled to use everything we are given. Your father was given size and strength, and a good mind. He used them, as he was entitled to, and if anyone is the worse for it, he has no right to complain; your father played by the rule."
    "Papa helps poor people."
    "Good man!"
    I nodded. "That doesn't surprise me. Some of them resent it, but he helps them anyway."
    Her eyes opened a trifle wider. "How did you know that?"
    "When some people are in pain, they strike out at any target within their reach, that's all. If you haven't learned it yet, you'll learn it soon. We all do."
    "Have I been doing that?"
    "That is for you to decide. I have been a judge, Mora, but I am not a judge here. Before I talk to you seriously-and I have serious things to say to you-I want you to consider this: Suppose that instead of being as you are, you were the small and pretty girl whom Fava appears to be. Don't you think it's possible that your father might doubt that you were really his? And that your life would be a great deal less happy if he did?"
    She was silent again, the large, plump hands motionless in her lap, her head bowed. At last she said, "I never thought of it."
    "You will think about it now, I know."
    To say what I wanted to say next