Widdowson retained his indulgent opinion of the facetious young wine merchant. He even laughed now and then in recalling some phrase or other that Bevis had used to him.
Subsequently, Monica had several long conversations with the old lady. Impelled to gossipy frankness about all her affairs, Mrs. Bevis allowed it to be understood that the chief reason for two of the girls always being with their brother was the possibility thus afforded of their “meeting people”—that is to say, of their having a chance of marriage. Mrs. Cosgrove and one or two other ladies did them social service.
“They never will marry!” said Monica to her husband, rather thoughtfully than with commiseration.
“Why not? They are nice enough girls.”
“Yes, but they have no money; and”—she smiled—“people see that they want to find husbands.”
“I don’t see that the first matters; and the second is only natural.”
Monica attempted no rejoinder, but said presently—
“Now they are just the kind of women who ought to find something to do.”
“Something to do? Why, they attend to their mother and their brother. What could be more proper?”
“Very proper, perhaps. But they are miserable, and always will be.”