Mrs. Lushington pondered. "There's a good deal to be said on both sides," she answered; "and I haven't quite made up my mind what I should do if I were you. With me, you know, it was different. If I hadn't made a convenience of Frank, I should have been nursing my dreadful old aunt still. You are very independent as you are, and do no end of mischief. But, my dear, you won't last for ever. That's where we fair women have the pull. And then you've so many to choose from. Yes; I think if I were you, I would!"
"And—You'll laugh at me, Clara, I feel," said Miss Douglas. "Do you think it's a good plan to marry a man one don't care for; I mean, who rather bores one than otherwise?"
"I did, dear," was the reply; "but I don't know that I've found it answer."
"It must be dreadful to see him all day long, and have to study his fancies. Breakfast with him, perhaps, every morning at nine o'clock."
"Frank would go without breakfast often enough, if he couldn't make his own tea, and insisted on such early hours. No, dear, there are worse things than that. We have to be in the country when they want to shoot, and in the spring too sometimes, if they're fond of hunting. But, on the other hand, we married women have certain advantages. We can keep more flirtations going at once than you. Though, to be sure, I don't fancy the General would stand much of that! If ever I saw a white Othello, it's St. Josephs."
"St. Josephs! Do you think I want to marry St. Josephs?"
Could the General have overheard the tone in which his name was spoken, surely his honest heart would have felt very sore and sad.
"Well, he wants to marry you!" was the reply; "and, upon my word, dear, the more I think of it, the more I am convinced you couldn't do better. He is rich enough, rather good-looking, and seems to know his own mind. What would you have?"
"My dear, I couldn't!"
"State your objections."