“He is worth two millions,” retorted the marchioness.
Despencer sat up in his chair and glanced at her.
“Rather a loud kind of man, they tell me,” he observed.
“They tell me it is the thing to be loud now,” said his companion.
“The sort of man that takes ballet-girls to Richmond?”
“The sort of man that every mother in England would welcome as a son-in-law.”
Despencer smiled compassionately and leaned back in his chair again.
“Oh, quite so. There could be no possible objection to him as a son-in-law. I thought you meant as an acquaintance.”
“Don’t be so insolent,” said the marchioness; “but listen. A man like that ought to marry, and to marry well. If he were to fall into the clutches of some vulgar adventuress, I should regard it as a misfortune for society.”
“This is very noble of you,” murmured her companion.