“Do what, please you, sir?”
“What! Humph! I mean that you will be more rigid, more circumspect. Men are deceitful; you must be on your guard against them. You are handsome, child, very handsome—more’s the pity.” And the banker took Alice’s hand and pressed it with great unction. Alice looked at him gravely and drew the hand away instinctively.
The banker lowered his spectacles, and gazed at her without their aid; his eyes were still fine and expressive. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Alice—Alice Darvil, sir.”
“Well, Alice, we have been considering what is best for you. You wish to earn your own livelihood, and perhaps marry some honest man hereafter.”
“Marry, sir—never!” said Alice, with great earnestness, her eyes filling with tears.
“And why?”
“Because I shall never see him on earth, and they do not marry in heaven, sir.”
The banker was moved, for he was not worse than his neighbours, though trying to make them believe he was so much better.
“Well, time enough to talk of that; but in the meanwhile you would support yourself?”