"For many reasons, chief among which is her beauty."
"That is an unusual reason for declining a woman," responded Sir John, with a low laugh.
"I think it is quite usual," I replied, having in mind the difficulty with which great beauties are won. But I continued, "A woman of moderate beauty makes a safer wife, and in the long run is more comforting than one who is too attractive."
"You are a philosopher, Sir Malcolm," said Manners, laughingly.
"And a liar," I muttered to myself. I felt sure, however, that I should never marry Dorothy Vernon, and I do not mind telling you, even at this early stage in my history, that I was right in my premonition. I did not marry her.
"I suppose I shall now be compelled to give you up to your relatives," said Manners.
"Yes," I returned, "we must say good-by for the present; but if we do not meet again, it shall not be for the lack of my wishing. Your father and Sir George would feel deeply injured, should they learn of our friendship, therefore—"
"You are quite right," he interrupted. "It is better that no one should know of it. Nevertheless, between you and me let there be no feud."
"The secrecy of our friendship will give it zest," said I. "That is true, but 'good wine needs no bush.' You will not mention my name to the ladies?"