Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
and down. . . How would he like to see a son of his in such a position? . . .
“He should have thought of that before he began playing the fool,” said Sir Appleton.
“Before he began playing the fool! A woman knows well enough. . . And a clergyman’s daughter! You want my boy to marry her with his knowledge, our knowledge of her character? You must be mad!”
Will said nothing. This quite unseemly altercation, when he was already worn out with the long persecution. . . I wished, oh! I wished that Arthur had been dining at home; he would never have allowed us to be bullied like this. . .
“Let’s take the next thing, then,” proposed Sir Appleton. And, do you know, I felt that he was enjoying our agony. “Your son is too fine a gentleman to marry this frail beauty, though he was not so fastidious when there was a question of getting her into trouble.” Fine gentlemen and frail beauties! The man was talking like a character in some ridiculous melodrama! “Well, he has rather spoiled her for any other life, so I presume he will gladly pay what compensation he can. Even a court of law would award substantial damages, if she could prove that there had been a promise of marriage.”
“She can’t prove it,” I said.
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