The cousins both thought he was splendid.
(“Good God!” groaned Bugloss.)
“I don’t,” declared auntie. “Do you know him very well, has he any intentions? An orphan girl living by herself—you have your way to make in the world—I am not presuming to criticize, my dear Claire, but is it wise? Who is he?”
“Yes, aunt,” said Claire. Bugloss could hear the tinkle of her bells as she moved a little restlessly.
“Are his intentions honourable? I should think they were otherwise.”
Claire did not reply immediately. It looked as if the musicians were about to resume. There was a rattle of plates and things over at the booth. Then she said reflectively: “I don’t think he has any—what you call honourable intentions.”
“Not! Is he a bad man?”
“O no, I don’t mean that, aunt, no.”
“But what do you mean then, you’re a strange girl, what could his intentions be?”
“He hasn’t any intentions at all.”