"She'll be sure to get somebody, and why shouldn't he have her money as well as another? There never was a Greystock who didn't want money. That's what it will come to;—you'll see."
"Never," said Lucy decidedly.
"And why not?"
"What I mean is that Mr. Greystock is,—at least, I should think so from what I hear,—the very last man in the world to marry for money."
"What do you know of what a man would do?"
"It would be a very mean thing;—particularly if he does not love her."
"Bother!" said the countess. "They were very near it in town last year before Lord Fawn came up at all. I knew as much as that. And it's what they'll come to before they've done."
"They'll never come to it," said Lucy.
Then a sudden light flashed across the astute mind of the countess. She turned round in her chair, and sat for awhile silent, looking at Lucy. Then she slowly asked another question. "He isn't your young man;—is he?" To this Lucy made no reply. "So that's it, is it?" said the dowager. "You've done me the honour of making my house your home till my own sister's nephew shall be ready to marry you?"
"And why not?" said Lucy, rather roughly.