“Mr. Saville, how can you?”
“He might not suit,” pursued Geoffrey unabashed, “but I’ll look out for another old gentleman for you, very old, very infirm, and very rich—the most tender and assiduous care during his lifetime guaranteed, n’est-ce pas?”
“I have no intention of marrying at present, many thanks for your kind offer.”
“Well, perhaps you are right,” returned Geoffrey calmly. “I myself am inclined to agree with the Frenchman who said, ‘Three weeks’ paradise, thirty years’ war!’ Married people always fight either quietly at home, which is the most deadly, or publicly, which is the most amusing.”
“Really, Geoffrey,” said Miss Saville, “with two married people present it is hardly polite to air such opinions.”
“Oh,” replied this incorrigible young man, looking mischievously at Alice, “if the cap does not fit them they need not put it on.”
“Have some claret, Alice?” interrupted her husband, seeing that Geoffrey was in a teasing humour.
“No, thank you.”
“Oh, but you will have to take it, my dear girl,” said her aunt; “you know you were ordered it.”
“Was she?” exclaimed Sir Reginald, pouring out a glass and gently pushing it towards her.