“An impertinence of any description is not worthy your notice, Richard.”
“True—true. But it was annoying, very annoying, to be asked if it was not dangerous to domesticate a young adventurer with my heiress.”
Mrs. Heriton reddened slightly.
“Surely Mr. Dormer does not merit such a name as that?”
“Well, no—not in the common acceptation of the term. He is an agreeable, intelligent young fellow. But you must acknowledge, my dear, that you are permitting too close an intimacy between him and our daughter. He might be tempted to try and entangle her into an engagement or elopement. Really,” and Mr. Heriton began to look quite excited at the idea, “really, it looks very serious.”
His lady smiled.
“I have too much faith in his honor and my little Florence’s simplicity to fear such a dénouement. Yet I know and feel that you are right; and if it were not that he will soon leave us, I should, for his sake, keep Florence more closely to her studies.”
Mr. Heriton stared.
“For his sake! Well, yes, I suppose you are right. Florence will have too much good sense to throw herself away. She must not marry until she has been properly presented. She must have a season in London, and——”
“Dear Richard, is it worth while to form plans that cannot be carried out for two or three years to come?” the lady asked, wearily leaning back with closed eyes, as if the mere prospect of her merry, artless daughter being converted into a fashionable belle alarmed her.