"And it's lucky for us sometimes that they don't," said Lady Chiltern, remembering certain passages in her early life.
The answer was written that night by Lord Chiltern after much consultation. As to the nature of the answer,—that it should be a positive refusal,—of course there could be no doubt; but then arose a question whether a reason should be given, or whether the refusal should be simply a refusal. At last it was decided that a reason should be given, and the letter ran as follows:—
My dear Mr. Spooner,
I am commissioned to inform you that Miss Palliser is engaged to be married to Mr. Gerard Maule.
Yours faithfully,
Chiltern.
The young lady had consented to be thus explicit because it had been already determined that no secret should be kept as to her future prospects.
"He is one of those poverty-stricken wheedling fellows that one meets about the world every day," said the Squire to his cousin—"a fellow that rides horses that he can't pay for, and owes some poor devil of a tailor for the breeches that he sits in. They eat, and drink, and get along heaven only knows how. But they're sure to come to smash at last. Girls are such fools nowadays."
"I don't think there has ever been much difference in that," said the cousin.
"Because a man greases his whiskers, and colours his hair, and paints his eyebrows, and wears kid gloves, by George, they'll go through fire and water after him. He'll never marry her."
"So much the better for her."
"But I hate such d—— impudence. What right has a man to come forward in that way who hasn't got a house over his head, or the means of getting one? Old Maule is so hard up that he can barely get a dinner at his club in London. What I wonder at is that Lady Chiltern shouldn't know better."