"That's right, my dear fellow; think about it," said Percy Beaumont.
"She's a charming girl," pursued his lordship.
"Of course she's a charming girl. I don't know a girl more charming, intrinsically. But there are other charming girls nearer home."
"I like her spirit," observed Lord Lambeth, almost as if he were trying to torment his cousin.
"What's the peculiarity of her spirit?"
"She's not afraid, and she says things out, and she thinks herself as good as any one. She is the only girl I have ever seen that was not dying to marry me."
"How do you know that, if you haven't asked her?"
"I don't know how; but I know it."
"I am sure she asked me questions enough about your property and your titles," said Beaumont.
"She has asked me questions, too; no end of them," Lord Lambeth admitted. "But she asked for information, don't you know."
"Information? Ay, I'll warrant she wanted it. Depend upon it that she is dying to marry you just as much and just as little as all the rest of them."
"I shouldn't like her to refuse me—I shouldn't like that."
