"I have invited more people than I intended for this evening," Lady Flower went on. "I was anxious to give you an opportunity of seeing various aspects of contemporary life."
"How kind of you, Grandmamma."
"Nothing to thank me for; I am doing no more than my duty."
Lady Flower made this admission a trifle unwillingly; but she thought it right to let Mary understand that, as she grew older, she, too, would find duty dogging her like a shadow. She must not be allowed to suppose that marriage meant freedom.
"Yes," she continued complacently, "I have invited several artistic people. They seem to be getting themselves a good deal talked about nowadays, and I felt you ought to meet some of them. By the way, Mr. Alison is coming."
"I'm glad," said Mary. "He's very nice."
"Very nice, indeed," her grandmother agreed emphatically. "And very much beau garçon. About thirty-five," she went on, meditating aloud. "About thirty-five, and extremely well off. He wrote to me that he was returning from the Continent on purpose to be present at your birthday party. I must say I find that highly significant."
"Significant of what?"
"My dear, innocence is a charming and attractive quality; but do not be too ingénue. No, not too ingénue. At any rate with me. You must surely have noticed how empressé he has always been with you? He admires you, and though of course I do not wish to influence you unduly or to persuade you into a hasty marriage, at the same time ... however, there are others every bit as suitable as Mr. Alison. I just happen to have noticed that he is rather obviously ... however, please, my dear child, pay no attention to what I was saying, because I should be unwilling, oh, yes, most unwilling, to precipitate a marriage with anybody, even a young man so perfectly eligible as Mr. Alison. At the same time, you are twenty, are you not? And I am seventy. You will of course inherit a comfortable sum when I die, but that makes it all the more imperative to choose for your husband a man who has money."