“I do not understand you. You must know that my father’s affairs are in such case as—in short—”
“I am aware,” Sir Richard said gently. “I apprehend it is to be my privilege to—er—unravel Lord Saar’s affairs.”
“But of course!” she replied, surprised out of her statuesque calm. “No other consideration could have prevailed upon me to accept your suit!”
“This,” said Sir Richard, pensively regarding the toe of one Hessian boot, “becomes a trifle delicate. If frankness is to be the order of the day, my dear Melissa, I must point out to you that I have not yet—er—proffered my suit.”
She was quite undisturbed by this snub, but replied coldly: “I did not suppose that you would so far forget what is due to our positions as to approach me with an offer. We do not belong to that world. You will no doubt seek an interview with my father.”
“I wonder if I shall?” said Sir Richard.
“I imagine that you most certainly will,” responded the lady, snipping her thread. “Your circumstances are as well known to me as mine are to you. If I may say so bluntly, you are fortunate to be in a position to offer for a Brandon.”
He looked meditatively at her, but made no remark. After a pause, she continued: “As for the future, neither of us, I trust, would make great demands upon the other. You have your amusements: they do not concern me, and however much my reason may deprecate your addiction to pugilism, curricle-racing, and deep basset—”
“Pharaoh,” he interpolated.
“Very well, pharaoh: it is all one. However much I may deprecate such follies, I say, I do not desire to interfere with your tastes.”