"I am very sorry," Catherine permitted herself to observe.
"Oh, he doesn't mind," said young Townsend. "He takes it easy—he isn't in a hurry. He is very particular."
Catherine thought he naturally would be, and gave herself up for some moments to the contemplation of this idea, in several of its bearings.
"Won't his father take him into his business—his office?" she at last inquired.
"He hasn't got any father—he has only got a sister. Your sister can't help you much."
It seemed to Catherine that if she were his sister she would disprove this axiom. "Is she—is she pleasant?" she asked in a moment.
"I don't know—I believe she's very respectable," said young Townsend. And then he looked across to his cousin and began to laugh. "Look here, we are talking about you," he added.
Morris Townsend paused in his conversation with Mrs. Penniman, and stared, with a little smile. Then he got up, as if he were going.
"As far as you are concerned, I can't return the compliment," he said to Catherine's companion. "But as regards Miss Sloper, it's another affair."
