"I could not afford to smile on her, John; she is too poor. And what on earth are you going to do with a poor wife? Nothing added to nothing will not make a decent living."
"I am going to ask her to be my wife, and if she does me the honor to say 'Yes,' I will make a decent living out of my profession."
From this time forth John devoted himself with some ostentation to his supposed cousin's companion. He was determined to let the widow perceive that he had made his choice, and that he could not be bought with her money. Mr. Selden and Miss Marat were always together, and the widow did not interfere between her companion and her cousin. Perhaps she was rather glad of their close friendship, for the handsome Cleve made a much more delightful attendant. Thus the party fell quite naturally into couples, and the two weeks that the gentlemen had first fixed as the limit of their stay lengthened into two months.
It was noticeable that as the ladies became more confidential with their lovers, they had less to say to each other; and it began at last to be quite evident to the real widow that the play must end for the present, or the dénouement would come prematurely. Circumstances favored her determination. One night Clementine, with a radiant face, came into her friend's room, and said, "Fan, I have something to tell you. Cleve has asked me to marry him."
"Now, Clement, you have told him all; I know you have."
"Not a word, Fan. He still believes me the widow Clare."
"Did you accept him?"
"Conditionally. I am to give him a final answer when we go to the city in October. You are going to New York this winter, are you not?"
"Yes. Our little play progresses finely. John Selden asked me to be his wife to-night."
"I told you men think and act in pairs."