ALINE. In Society?
CROCKSTEAD. For preference. She will be better versed in spending money than a governess, or country parson's daughter.
ALINE. But why this voracity for marriage?
CROCKSTEAD. Lady Aline, I am hunted, pestered, worried, persecuted. I have settled two breach of promise actions already, though Heaven knows I did no more than remark it was a fine day, or enquire after the lady's health. If you do not help me, some energetic woman will capture me—I feel it—and bully me for the rest of my days. I raise a despairing cry to you—Find me a wife!
ALINE. Do you desire the lady to have any—special qualifications?
CROCKSTEAD. No—the home-grown article will do. One thing, though—I should like her to be—merciful.
ALINE. I don't understand.
CROCKSTEAD. I have a vague desire to do something with my money: my wife might help me. I should like her to have pity.
ALINE. Pity?
CROCKSTEAD. In the midst of her wealth I should wish her to be sorry for those who are poor.