"And how do they strike you?" Uncle Paul inquired. "Because you know, I suppose——" He stopped for a while. "Well, I wonder what you think of them," he said.
"I am sorry to say," I replied, "that I don't see anything very wrong with either."
He looked at me through his highly magnifying gold-rimmed glasses. Then he laughed.
"I felt a little like that myself," he said. "But we mustn't be dogs in the manger: old men like us."
(Not so old as that, all the same! He must speak for himself.)
"I could wish that the quiet one had more legs," said Uncle Paul. "But I suppose that his disability is all in his favour with such a born manager as Ben. Would he be your choice?"
"I don't know," I said. "I sometimes think I should prefer her to take the jolly one. And I like a man to be complete."
"The jolly one might get on her nerves after a while," said Uncle Paul. "High spirits and facetiousness can ruin a marriage almost as easily as egotism and irony."
"I don't think Harford's humour is as virulent as that," I said. "I saw a lot of him at Bibury. I thought his gaiety rather attractive. He has some brains, too. His principal fault—and I wish I could share it—is that he finds life an adventure and a joke. But he will be cured of such heresies as those all too soon. Nothing so enrages the Powers above as to see anyone down here daring to be like that. And they have all the weapons of chastisement and correction so handy!"