"To ask any woman to marry him? No! There are limits."
"Well, yes, there are limits. A crossing-sweeper can't quite ask a duchess," admitted the girl hardily. "But—any gentleman—"
That brought matters to a point. Mrs. Winton put down her work, and looked steadily at the warm young face.
"We want you very much, my dear, not to do anything in a hurry. Remember, this is a question which involves your whole life's happiness. Of course there are things which your father and I could not possibly consent to—and we know you would obey. But we would so much rather that you should be sensible, and should see for yourself the need."
"If you and father forbid it—of course—" Doris said proudly. "I would wait—at all events. But it's not fair! You don't, either of you, know him."
"No, I know we don't. And I am sure he has managed to make himself agreeable. I dare say he is—handsome." This was a severe effort.
"I don't suppose you would call him handsome. I think he's awfully good-looking."
"And—pleasant too!"
"Oh, he's perfectly delightful—I can't tell you how delightful and dear he is."
"A great many men know how to make themselves liked by young girls, my dear,—men whose family connections"—Doris moved uneasily—"are not precisely what one could accept. You see, nice manners are not the only thing to be considered in marriage."