"No, my love. I am too poor to marry; but if I met a rich woman, well----" he stopped, pulled up his collar, glanced in a near mirror and adjusted his tie, apparently thinking he was worthy to be wooed by an heiress.
Gertrude laughed, more at ease in her mind. "It would be foolish to marry at your age, papa. You have a comfortable house and a good income, so why not enjoy yourself as you are doing now."
But it appeared that she had said the wrong thing, since her father was excessively touchy. "At my age, Gertrude," he remarked in an offended tone, "you forget that I am still comparatively young, and that when you marry I shall be very solitary. As to my income, it is a mere pittance to a man of my artistic tastes."
His daughter might have reminded him that he spent most of his income on himself, and kept her on next to nothing. But she passed over the whole speech save one remark: "I shall never marry, papa," she said quietly.
"Why not? why not?" fumed Mr. Monk, startled.
"No one will have me," she said demurely.
"Oh," her father laughed, "that is all right; I haven't been unmindful of you, my child, when in town. There are one or two men to whom I must introduce you with a view to matrimony. I shall arrange----"
"Please don't, papa; I prefer to arrange the question of marriage myself."
"Foolish, foolish child," said Monk, his touchy temper again getting the better of him, "you shall do as I tell you else you will place me in the disagreeable position of Lear," and he walked out of the room just like a child, annoyed because the bad naughty table has hurt it.
"Oh, dear me, how easily papa is offended," sighed Gertrude, shrugging when he banged the door, "this must be unpleasant for you, Mr. Vance."