MRS. TEMPERLY
I
WHY, Cousin Raymond, how can you suppose? Why, she's only sixteen!'
'She told me she was seventeen,' said the young man, as if it made a great difference.
'Well, only just!' Mrs. Temperly replied, in the tone of graceful, reasonable concession.
'Well, that's a very good age for me. I'm very young.'
'You are old enough to know better,' the lady remarked, in her soft, pleasant voice, which always drew the sting from a reproach, and enabled you to swallow it as you would a cooked plum, without the stone. 'Why, she hasn't finished her education!'
'That's just what I mean,' said her interlocutor. 'It would finish it beautifully for her to marry me.'
'Have you finished yours, my dear?' Mrs. Temperly inquired. 'The way you young people talk about marrying!' she exclaimed, looking at the itinerant functionary with the long wand who touched into a flame the tall gas-lamp on the other side of the Fifth Avenue. The pair were standing, in the recess of a window, in one of the big public rooms of
