“Humph! Yes. But, look here, young man, you are from London, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“Then none of your town manners, please. No putting silly notions in that girl’s head. It’s full enough already.”
“Who? I? Put silly notions in her head?” said Geoffrey, showing his white teeth as he removed his cigar from his lips and exhaled a great cloud of smoke. “Don’t be afraid, old gentleman. I’m a man without a heart. Besides which, I’m engaged.”
“More fool you. Bah! Look at me.”
“I have looked at you,” said Geoffrey, coolly; “I know you by heart already.”
“Bah!” ejaculated the old gentleman, testily. “Engaged—married—insanity! A young man madly makes up his mind to keep a woman and a lot of children in bread and butter, like poor Rumsey, our doctor. Thinks it is going to be a pleasant burthen, and dreams on till he wakes—poor devil!”
“You don’t approve, then, of matrimony?”
“Approve? No, I don’t. I have seen too much of it in others. Young half-brother of mine marries that woman there; keeps poor in consequence; dies poor, leaving her and her child poor—paupers both of ’em.”
“Hah! yes,” said Geoffrey; “there are more poor than rich in the world.”