Lady Chiltern had whispered a suspicion of the same kind, and had expressed a hope that the lover would be worthy of the girl. And Dolly Longstaff had chaffed his friend Popplecourt on the subject, Popplecourt having laid himself open by indiscreet allusions to Dolly's love for Miss Boncassen. "Everybody can't have it as easily arranged for him as you,—a Duke's daughter and a pot of money without so much as the trouble of asking for it!"
"What do you know about the Duke's children?"
"That's what it is to be a lord and not to have a father." Popplecourt tried to show that he was disgusted; but he felt himself all the more strongly bound to go on with his project.
It was therefore a matter of course that these should-be lovers would be sent out of the room together. "You'll give your arm to Mary," Lady Cantrip said, dropping the ceremonial prefix. Lady Mary of course went out as she was bidden. Though everybody else knew it, no idea of what was intended had yet come across her mind.
The should-be lover immediately reverted to the Austrian tour, expressing a hope that his neighbour had enjoyed herself. "There's nothing I like so much myself," said he, remembering some of the Duke's words, "as mountains, cities, salt-mines, and all that kind of thing. There's such a lot of interest about it."
"Did you ever see a salt-mine?"
"Well,—not exactly a salt-mine; but I have coal-mines on my property in Staffordshire. I'm very fond of coal. I hope you like coal."
"I like salt a great deal better—to look at."
"But which do you think pays best? I don't mind telling you,—though it's a kind of thing I never talk about to strangers,—the royalties from the Blogownie and Toodlem mines go up regularly two thousand pounds every year."
"I thought we were talking about what was pretty to look at."