“Oh, I think she has given Tony some reason to hope.”
“She is as big a fool as he is then,” Mr. Bechcombe said with asperity. “But Tony isn't the only one of the family on matrimony bent. What do you think of Aubrey Todmarsh?”
“Aubrey Todmarsh!” repeated the rector of Wexbridge in amazed accents. “I should have thought matrimony would have been the last thing to enter his head. His whole life seems to be bound up in that community of his.”
“Not so bound up but that he still has a very good eye to the main chance,” retorted Luke Bechcombe. “He is not thinking of a penniless secretary! He's after money, is Mr. Aubrey. What do you think of Mrs. Phillimore?”
“Mrs. Phillimore! The rich American widow! She must be much too old for him.”
“Old enough to be his mother, I dare say. She is pretty well made up, though, and that doesn't matter to Aubrey as long as she has got the money. She has been financing these wildcat schemes of his lately. But I suppose he thinks the whole would suit him better than part.”
“But are they really engaged?”
“Oh, nothing quite so definite yet. But I am expecting the announcement every day. Hello!”—as an intermittent clicking made itself heard—“there's your future daughter-in-law at work. That's the typewriter.”
Mr. Collyer started.
“You don't mean that she has been able to hear what we have been saying?”