“I hope not, indeed,” said the Duke. “But, you know, I had no notion that your niece’s affections were so deeply engaged.”
“Sir,” said Mr. Liversedge, “you are young! you do not yet know the depths of woman’s heart!”
“No,” agreed the Duke. “But will money allay the—the pangs of grief and chagrin?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Liversedge simply.
The Duke could not help smiling at this. He said in a meek tone: “Forgive me, Mr. Liversedge, but is not a—a transaction of this nature repugnant to a man of your sensibility?”
“Mr. Ware,” said Mr. Liversedge, “I shall not conceal from you that it is deeply repugnant. I am, as you have divined, a man of sensibility, and it is with profound reluctance that I have compelled myself to take up the cudgels on behalf of my orphaned niece.”
“At her instigation?” murmured the Duke.
Mr. Liversedge surveyed him, a calculating look in his eye. “My niece,” he said, “has been put to great expense on account of expectations raised, Mr. Ware. I need not enumerate. But bride-clothes, you know, sir, and—”
“Five thousand pounds?” said Gilly, in bewildered accents.
They looked at one another. “I am persuaded,” said Mr. Liversedge reproachfully, “that you would not wish to do anything unhandsome, sir. Considering the elevated nature of my niece’s expectations, five thousand pounds cannot be considered an extortionate figure.”