“They 're wonderful,—they 're wonderful!” said the Captain, puffing his weed. “It's a long time since I met anything so fresh as that old Baronet.”
“And with all that,” said she, “his great vanity is to think he knows 'the world.'”
“So he may, my dear. I can only say it is n't your world nor mine,” replied he, laughing.
“And yet there is a class in which such men as he are the clever ones, where their remarks are listened to and their observations treasured, and where old ladies in turbans and bird-of-paradise feathers pronounce them 'such well-informed men.' Isn't that the phrase, pa?”
“Yes, that's the phrase. An old article of the 'Quarterly' committed to memory, some of Dr. Somebody's predictions about the end of the world, and Solomon's proverbs done into modern English, make a very well-informed man.”
“And a most insupportable bore, besides. After all, papa,” said she, “it is in the landlocked creeks, the little waveless bays, that one must seek his anchorage, and not in the breezy roadsteads nor the open ocean. I've thought over the matter a good deal lately, and I believe that to be the wise choice.”
“You are right, Loo,” said he; “ease is the great thing,—ease and security! What settlement can he make?”
“A small one; just enough to live on. The son would be better in that respect, but then I should n't like it; and, besides, he would live as long as myself,—longer, perhaps,—and you know one likes to have a look forward, though it be ever so far away off.”
“Very true,—very true,” said he, with a mild sigh. “And this Miss Leslie,” added he, after a while; “she 'll marry, I suppose?”
“Oh yes; her fortune will still be considerable,—at least, I hope so. That man Trover has taken all the papers away with him, but he 'll turn up some day or other. At all events, there will be quite enough to get her a Roman Count or a Sicilian Duke; and as they are usually sent to the galleys or shot in a few years, the endurance is not prolonged. These are Trover's cigars, ain't they? I know them well.”