"A boy at Eton is not thrown into such society," said Mrs. Wortle.
"I suppose his being here and seeing Mary every day has done it. Poor Mary!"
"I don't think she is poor at all," said Mary's mother.
"I am afraid she must not dream of her young lover."
"Of course she will not dream of him. She has never entertained any idea of the kind. There never was a girl with less nonsense of that kind than Mary. When Lord Carstairs spoke to her to-day I do not suppose she had thought about him more than any other boy that has been here."
"But she will think now."
"No;—not in the least. She knows it is impossible."
"Nevertheless she will think about it. And so will you."
"I!"
"Yes,—why not? Why should you be different from other mothers? Why should I not think about it as other fathers might do? It is impossible. I wish it were not. For Mary's sake, I wish he were three or four years older. But he is as he is, and we know that it is impossible. Nevertheless, it is natural that she should think about him. I only hope that she will not think about him too much." So saying he closed the conversation for that night.