"Indeed, I think your daughter will only be happy with Bracken," insisted the Nut lightly. "He loves her, and I think that she loves him."
"In that case," commented Madame with a shrug and glancing at Hench, "there is no chance for you."
"I admire Mademoiselle Zara and wish to make her my wife," said Hench steadily. "I am young and strong, and will soon make a fortune."
"So far you have been unsuccessful," she replied dryly; "and for my daughter I prefer a ready-made fortune." Her eyes rested on Spruce as she spoke. The little man did not take the hint, but chuckled softly in his hateful fashion, so she was obliged to go on. "Tell me, Mr. Spruce, what do you know of Mr. Hench?"
"Only that he is the best fellow in the world."
Hench frowned. "I don't see how you can swear to that, seeing we have not met for eight years."
"Oh, you were always a good sort of chap," said Spruce gaily. "If you don't mind my saying so, you haven't enough brains to be wicked. It takes a clever person to sin properly."
"Ah, but you will amuse yourself with this talk," broke in Madame, smiling. "I want a good man for my daughter."
"Take Bracken, then. He's a bit of a bounder, but decent enough."
The old woman pursed up her lips and shook her head. After a few moments of reflection she spoke freely. "My daughter must marry money, and neither you, Mr. Hench, nor Mr. Bracken have any money. I will not allow you to pay your addresses to her. Nor will Zara receive them. She is a good girl and loves her old mother."