"I fear, my dear cousin, that you have infected Kenelm with your selfish ideas on the nuptial state. He does not seem inclined to marry,—eh?"
"Not that I know of."
"What sort of girl is Cecilia Travers?"
"One of those superior girls who are not likely to tower into that terrible giantess called a 'superior woman.' A handsome, well-educated, sensible young lady, not spoiled by being an heiress; in fine, just the sort of girl whom you could desire to fix on for a daughter-in-law."
"And you don't think Kenelm has a fancy for her?"
"Honestly speaking, I do not."
"Any counter-attraction? There are some things in which sons do not confide in their fathers. You have never heard that Kenelm has been a little wild?"
"Wild he is, as the noble savage who ran in the woods," said Cousin
Mivers.
"You frighten me!"
"Before the noble savage ran across the squaws, and was wise enough to run away from them. Kenelm has run away now somewhere."