Miss Dunstable remained silent for a few moments, as though she were at first minded to take the question as being, in some sort, one made in earnest; but then she attempted to laugh it off. “Well, I wonder at that,” said she, “as it was only the other day I told you how many offers I had refused.”
“Yes; but you did not tell me whether any had been made that you meant to accept.”
“None such was ever made to me. Talking of that, I shall never forget your cousin, the Honourable George.”
“He is not my cousin.”
“Well, your husband’s. It would not be fair to show a man’s letters; but I should like to show you his.”
“You are determined, then, to remain single?”
“I didn’t say that. But why do you cross-question me so?”
“Because I think so much about you. I am afraid that you will become so afraid of men’s motives as to doubt that any one can be honest. And yet sometimes I think you would be a happier woman and a better woman, if you were married.”
“To such an one as the Honourable George, for instance?”
“No, not to such an one as him; you have probably picked out the worst.”