‘She might say, “I know nothing about you. I may possibly not see much to dislike, but how do I know I should like you.”’
‘And I’d say, “I’m one of those fellows that are the same all through, to-day as I was yesterday, and to-morrow the same. When I’m in a bad temper I go out on the moors and walk it off, and I’m not hard to live with.”’
‘There’s many a bad fellow a woman might like better.’
‘All the luckier for me, then, that I don’t get her.’
‘I might say, too,’ said Kearney, with a smile, ‘how much do you know of my daughter—of her temper, her tastes, her habits, and her likings? What assurance have you that you would suit each other, and that you are not as wide apart in character as in country?’
‘I’ll answer for that. She’s always good-tempered, cheerful, and light-hearted. She’s always nicely dressed and polite to every one. She manages this old house, and these stupid bog-trotters, till one fancies it a fine establishment and a first-rate household. She rides like a lion, and I’d rather hear her laugh than I’d listen to Patti.’
‘I’ll call all that mighty like being in love.’
‘Do if you like—but answer me my question.’
‘That is more than I’m able; but I’ll consult my daughter. I’ll tell her pretty much in your own words all you have said to me, and she shall herself give the answer.’
‘All right, and how soon?’