“Miss Raleigh,” cried the stockbroker excitedly, “your words are like fresh air in a hot office. One thinks more clearly; life seems better worth living for; and there’s a general rise of one’s natural stock all over a fellow’s market.—Might I kiss your hand?”
“No,” cried Aunt Sophia; “but you may behave sensibly. Stop down a day or two, and see how the land lies.”
“May I?”
“Yes; I’ll answer for your welcome.—And now, mind this: I’m not going to interfere with my niece and her likes and dislikes; but let me give you a bit of advice.”
“If you would!” exclaimed Saxby.
“Then don’t go about sighing like a bull-goose. Women don’t care for such weak silly creatures. Naomi’s naturally weak, and what she looks for in a man is strength both in brain and body.”
“Yes, I see,” said Saxby sadly. “I under stand stocks and shares, but I don’t understand women.”
“Of course you don’t. No man yet ever did; not even Solomon, with all his experience; and no man ever will.”
“But, I thought, Miss Raleigh—I hoped—”
“Well, what did you think and hope?”