"Neither do I. On the contrary, one should be proud of it. It betrays such meekness, such simplicity, such contentment. I myself am not fond of tea,—a fact I deplore morning, noon, and night."
"It is a mere matter of education," says Georgie, laughing. "I used not to care for it, except at breakfast, and now I love it."
"Do you? I wish with all my heart I was good souchong," says Mr. Branscombe, at which she laughs again.
"One can't have all one's desires," she says. "Now, with me music is a passion; yet I have never heard any of the great singers of the age. Isn't that hard?"
"For you it must be, indeed. But how is it you haven't?"
"Because I have no time, no money, no—no anything."
"What a hesitation! Tell me what the 'anything' stands for."
"Well, I meant no home,—that is, no husband, I suppose," says Georgie. She is quite unconcerned, and smiles at him very prettily as she says it. Of the fact that he is actually in love with her, she is totally unaware.
"That is a regret likely to be of short standing," he says, his eyes on hers. But her thoughts are far away, and she hardly heeds the warmth of his gaze or the evident meaning in his tone.
"I suppose if I did marry somebody he would take me to hear all the great people?" she says, a little doubtfully, looking at him as though for confirmation of her hope.