“Precisely. But Boniface is such a fool that he overlooks that and does nothing but talk of his great business capacities, his industry, his good address, and a lot of other rubbish of that sort. Why without money a fellow is worth nothing—absolutely nothing.”
“From the first I detested him,” said Mrs. Horner. “I knew that the Bonifaces were deceived in him. It’s my belief that although his character is cleared as to this five-pound note business, yet he is really a mere adventurer. Depend upon it he’ll manage to get everything into his own hands, and will be ousting Roy one of these days.”
“Well, he’s hardly likely to do that, for it seems the sister has been keeping her eyes open, and that idiot of a Roy is going to marry her.”
“To marry Sigrid Falck?” exclaimed Mrs. Horner, starting to her feet. “Actually to bring into the family a girl who plays at dancing-classes and parties—a girl who sweeps her own house and cooks her own dinner!”
“I don’t know that she is any the worse for doing that,” said James Horner. “It’s not the girl herself that I object to, for she’s pretty and pleasant enough, but the connection, the being related by marriage to that odious Falck, who has treated me so insufferably, who looks down on me and is as stand-offish as if he were an emperor.”
“If there is one thing I do detest,” said Mrs. Horner, “it is pushing people—a sure sign of vulgarity. But it’s partly Loveday’s fault. If I had had to deal with the Falcks they would have been taught their proper place, and all this would not have happened.”
At this moment dinner was announced. The overdone meat did not improve Mr. Horner’s temper, and when the servants had left the room he broke out into fresh invectives against the Bonifaces.
“When is the wedding to be?” asked his wife.
“Some time in February, I believe. They are house-furnishing already.”
Mrs. Horner gave an ejaculation of annoyance.