fault than the command of bread and butter. To humor her, for he was always good-natured, he said, after a moment, smiling:
"Dear mother, is she pretty?"
"Is who pretty?"
"The young lady you have in your eye. Of course I see you've picked her out."
She colored slightly at this—she had planned a more gradual revelation. For an instant she thought of saying that she had only had a general idea, for the form of his question embarrassed her; but on reflection she determined to be frank and practical. "Well, I confess I am thinking of a girl—a very nice one. But she hasn't great beauty."
"Oh, then it's of no use."
"But she's delightful, and she'll have thirty thousand pounds down, to say nothing of expectations."
Maurice Glanvil looked at his mother. "She must be hideous—for you to admit it. Therefore, if she's rich, she becomes quite impossible; for how can a fellow have the air of having been bribed with gold to marry a monster?"
