“Supposing she does like Brinton a bit,” said Mr. Carteret, “what’s to prevent you from getting into the race?”
“Can’t you see!” exclaimed Barclay. “If Lady Withers thought I wanted to marry her,—you know what she’d do.”
“Well,” said Mr. Carteret, “if she isn’t forced to marry your money, she’ll have to marry Tappingwell-Sikes’s, and, on the whole, I think she’d prefer your railroads to his beer.”
“What Sikes may do,” said Barclay, “is not my business; but I want no woman to marry me if she doesn’t want to.”
“Your sentiments are not discreditable,” observed his friend; “but, after all, she may want to. You can’t be sure until you ask her.”
“Yes, I can,” said Barclay. “Besides,” he went on, “am I anything wonderful that she should jump at me?”
“That is not an original suggestion,” said Mr. Carteret, thoughtfully, “yet it may be in point. However, it is a great mistake to act upon it when you are making love.”
“In the second place,” Barclay continued, “Captain Brinton has the inside track.”
“I don’t think so,” said Mr. Carteret, decisively; “they’re too much together in public.”
Barclay shook his head dismally. “Over here it means they’re engaged,” he said.