“Proposed for her hand? Nonsense, mamma. People of their class don’t understand things in that light.”
This was a false move, and the Rector took advantage of the slip.
“People of that class, sir? Then you acknowledge that you are degrading yourself by these proceedings.”
“Oh, I don’t know about degrading myself, sir. You know what they say. If a lady marries her groom she descends to his level. If a man marries his cook he raises her to his.”
“But does Mr Portlock—my Churchwarden—know of your intentions?”
“How can he,” said Cyril, coolly, “when I have none?”
“But Mrs Portlock believes that you are paying your attentions to her niece.”
“Yes, I s’pose so,” he replied. “Terribly silly woman.”
“Oh, Cyril, Cyril,” said his mother, “this is very, very shocking.”
“Stuff and nonsense, mamma. Why, what a tremendous fuss about a little bit of flirtation with a pretty little schoolmistress. You nearly had her sister for a daughter-in-law when Frank was after her.”