“Well—er—yes, my dear madam; to be candid, that is what I thought. For ever since the day when I first set—”
“Thank you: that will do, Saxby. Rhapsodies do sound such silly stuff to people at my age. Really, if you talk like that, I shall feel as if it would be madness to come to consult you again on business.”
“But really, my dear madam—”
“Yes,” said Aunt Sophia, interrupting; “I know. Well, then, we’ll grant that you like her.”
“Like her, madam? I worship her?”
“No: don’t, my good man. Let’s be sensible, if we can. My niece Naomi is a very nice, amiable, good girl.”
“She’s an angel, ma’am!”
“No; she is not,” said Aunt Sophia stiffly; “and so the man who marries her will find. She’s only a nice English girl, and I don’t want her feelings hurt by any one.”
“Miss Raleigh, it would be my study to spare her feelings in every way.”
“If you had the opportunity, my good man. As it happens, I must speak plainly to you, and tell you that I am afraid she has formed an attachment to Mr Prayle.”