"I mean to be kind. I do, indeed, Conway. I know it will be better for you that you should be settled,—very much better. And it will be better for me. I do not mind admitting that;—though in saying so I trust greatly to your generosity to interpret my words properly."
"I shall not flatter myself, if you mean that."
"There is no question of flattery, Conway. The question is simply of truth and prudence. Do you not know that it would be better that you should be married?"
"Not unless a certain gentleman were to die first," said Conway Dalrymple, as he deposited the last of his painting paraphernalia in the recess which had been prepared for them by Mrs. Broughton.
"Conway, how can you speak in that wicked, wicked way!"
"I can assure you I do not wish the gentleman in question the slightest harm in the world. If his welfare depended on me, he should be as safe as the Bank of England."
"And you will not take my advice?"
"What advice?"
"About Clara?"
"Mrs. Broughton, matrimony is a very important thing."