“I thought men of his stamp always married early.”
“No. He is engaged, and engaged to a lady of very good position.”
“He owes that to the diseased craving of modern women for notoriety of any sort. What an admirable photograph of Marian! I never saw it before. It is really most charming. When was it taken?”
“Last August, at Geneva. She does not like it—thinks it too coquettish.”
“Then perhaps she will give it to me.”
“She will be only too glad, I daresay. You have caught her at a soft moment to-night.”
“I cannot find that duet anywhere,” said Marian, entering. “What! up already, Sholto? Where is papa?”
“I left him asleep in the dining-room. I have just been asking Miss McQuinch whether she thought you would give me a copy of this carte.”
“That Geneva one. It is most annoying how people persist in admiring it. It always looks to me as if it belonged to an assortment of popular beauties at one shilling each. I dont think I have another. But you may take that if you wish.”
“Thank you,” said Douglas, drawing it from the book.