"He seems brave enough with my cousin Maida. It's Mamma and me he doesn't say much to, unless we speak to him first."
"You see he's horribly afraid of being thought a fortune-hunter. He's almost morbidly sensitive in that way."
"O-oh, I see," I echoed. "Is that the reason he's so stand-off with us—because he knows we're rich?"
"Yes. Otherwise he'd be delightful, just as he is with Miss Destrey, with whom he doesn't have to think of such things."
"You're fond of him, aren't you?" I asked, beginning again to dig for the worm; for Sir Ralph was squatting beside me now, watching the point of my parasol.
"Rather!" he exclaimed. "He's the finest fellow on earth. I should like to see him as happy as he deserves to be."
"But you don't want him to fall in love with Maida?"
"That's the last thing I should choose for either of them. Though it's early to talk of such contingencies, isn't it, as they've known each other—we've all known each other—only a few days?"
"It only takes a few minutes for the most important things to happen, such as being born and dying. Why should falling in love take more? It wouldn't with me."
"You're young to judge."