‘Has Mr Reardon no relatives!’
‘I never heard him make mention of a single one. No, he has done the fatal thing. A man in his position, if he marry at all, must take either a work-girl or an heiress, and in many ways the work-girl is preferable.’
‘How can you say that?’ asked Dora. ‘You never cease talking about the advantages of money.’
‘Oh, I don’t mean that for ME the work-girl would be preferable; by no means; but for a man like Reardon. He is absurd enough to be conscientious, likes to be called an “artist,” and so on. He might possibly earn a hundred and fifty a year if his mind were at rest, and that would be enough if he had married a decent little dressmaker. He wouldn’t desire superfluities, and the quality of his work would be its own reward. As it is, he’s ruined.’
‘And I repeat,’ said Maud, ‘that you enjoy the prospect.’
‘Nothing of the kind. If I seem to speak exultantly it’s only because my intellect enjoys the clear perception of a fact.—A little marmalade, Dora; the home-made, please.’
‘But this is very sad, Jasper,’ said Mrs Milvain, in her half-absent way. ‘I suppose they can’t even go for a holiday?’
‘Quite out of the question.’
‘Not even if you invited them to come here for a week?’
‘Now, mother,’ urged Maud, ‘THAT’S impossible, you know very well.’