“Why preposterous, madam?”
“Your youth!”
“Is my tutor old?”
“Your position—your prospects!”
He laughed in a gay, light fashion.
“Well, should my Uncle Clare marry again, a thing not unlikely, exercise of this kind will be a useful experience, for then I shall have little but my brains to depend on.”
“But he will never marry!—who thinks it?” cried the mother impatiently.
“Men of a little more than forty do not often consider themselves out of the matrimonial market, mother.”
“You talk wildly, George. Clare will never marry again—never, never!”
“And if he does not, am I his next heir?—or my hopes of advancement and fortune rest on you, lady mother?—you who certainly will not own yourself too old for a second marriage!”