“Would you, who are my heir presumptive, wish me to marry?”
“Indeed, I would! You would be so much better and happier! Think of it, Francis!”
“My dearest, I am both too old and too young to fall in love!” laughed the earl.
“What rubbish! ‘Too old and too young!’ What do you mean by such absurdity?”
“I have passed my first youth of sentiment, and I have not yet reached my second childhood of senility! Therefore, I am both too old and too young to fall in love.”
“Nonsense! That is not true; and, even if it were, you are neither too young nor too old to marry. It is not necessary that you should ‘fall in love.’ You might meet some lady, however, whom you could love, and esteem, and marry.”
“Where should I be likely to find such a lady? My dear, I have never gone into society at all. Since my return from India I have led a secluded life, on account of my health.”
“On account of your hypochondria, you mean! Now, Francis, you must change all that. In the beginning of the next London season you must open your house on Westbourne Terrace, and entertain company.”
“Will you do the honors, Elfrida?”
“Of course I will,” replied the lady.