DARRELL.—"Old maids. No! decidedly no!"
COLONEL MORLEY (suspiciously).—"But you would not risk the peace of your old age with a girl of eighteen, or else I do know a very accomplished, well-brought-up girl; just eighteen, who—"
DARRELL.—"Re-enter life by the side of Eighteen! am I a madman?"
COLONEL MORLEY.—"Neither old maids nor young maids; the choice becomes narrowed. You would prefer a widow. Ha! I have thought of one; a prize, indeed, could you but win her, the widow of—"
DARRELL.—"Ephesus!—Bah! suggest no widow to me. A widow, with her affections buried in the grave!"
MORLEY.—"Not necessarily. And in this case—"
DARRELL (interrupting, and with warmth).—"In every case I tell you: no widow shall doff her weeds for me. Did she love the first man? Fickle is the woman who can love twice. Did she not love him? Why did she marry him? Perhaps she sold herself to a rent-roll? Shall she sell herself again to me for a jointure? Heaven forbid! Talk not of widows. No dainty so flavourless as a heart warmed up again."
COLONEL MORLEY.—"Neither maids, be they old or young, nor widows.
Possibly you want an angel. London is not the place for angels."
DARRELL.—"I grant that the choice seems involved in perplexity. How can it be otherwise if one's self is perplexed? And yet, Alban, I am serious; and I do not presume to be so exacting as my words have implied. I ask not fortune, nor rank beyond gentle blood, nor youth nor beauty nor accomplishments nor fashion, but I do ask one thing, and one thing only."
COLONEL MORLEY.—"What is that? you have left nothing worth the having to ask for."