"I'm afraid it's a little impossible."
"Impossible?"
"You see I've refused him, aunt."
"Naturally—the first time! But I wouldn't send him packing the second."
There was an interval.
Marjorie decided on a blunt question. "Do you really think, aunt, I should do well to marry Mr. Magnet?"
"He'd give you everything a clever woman needs," said Aunt Plessington. "Everything."
With swift capable touches she indicated the sort of life the future Mrs. Magnet might enjoy. "He's evidently a man who wants helping to a position," she said. "Of course his farces and things, I'm told, make no end of money, but he's just a crude gift by himself. Money like that is nothing. With a clever wife he might be all sorts of things. Without one he'll just subside—you know the sort of thing this sort of man does. A rather eccentric humorous house in the country, golf, croquet, horse-riding, rose-growing, queer hats."
"Isn't that rather what he would like to do, aunt?" said Marjorie.
"That's not our business, Madge," said Aunt Plessington with humorous emphasis.