“Yes, twice as rich. Is there any other question you would like to ask?”
“Well, I would like to know about your parents.”
“I have no parents. I am an orphan.”
“And where do you come from, Mr. Crispin?”
“From the East”
“Heavens!” cried Mrs. Dengelton, as a dreadful thought struck her; “you are not a Hindoo, or a negro, or a Hottentot?”
“Well, I am certainly dark,” replied the poet, laughing, “but I am, as it happens, a pure-blooded Englishman. But come now, Mrs. Dengelton, I have answered your questions, so in common fairness you must answer mine. Will you let me marry your daughter?”
“I—I—really I don’t know what to say,” said Mrs. Dengelton, unwilling to let the chance of such a wealthy match slip, and yet doubtful as to the position of the suitor. “I[“I] must think it over. Tell me who you are.”
“Not now. I will satisfy you fully concerning my family when I return from Greece.”
“Ah! am I right in saying you are going to the East to see your relatives about this marriage?” said Mrs. Dengelton archly.