“I met her on the stairs just now, and she said that she was going to bed—got a headache, I believe. Shall we start?”
So soon as they were well away from the house, Philip broke the ice.
“Some months back, I had a conversation with Lady Bellamy on the subject of a proposal that you made to me through her for Angela’s hand. It is about that I wish to speak to you now. First, I must ask if you still wish to go on with the business?”
“Certainly, I wish it more than ever.”
“Well, as I intimated to Lady Bellamy, I do not at all approve of your suit. Angela is already, subject to my consent, very suitably engaged to your late ward, a young fellow whom, whatever you may think about him, I like very much; and I can assure you that it will require the very strongest inducements to make me even allow such a thing. In any case, I will have nothing to do with influencing Angela; she is a perfectly free agent.”
“Which means, I suppose, that you intend to screw down the price?”
“In wanting to marry Angela,” went on Philip, “you must remember that you fly high. She is a very lovely woman, and, what is more, will some day or other be exceedingly well off, whilst you—you must excuse me for being candid, but this is a mere matter of business, and I am only talking of you in the light of a possible son-in-law—you are a middle-aged man, not prepossessing in appearance, broken in health, and, however well you may have kept up your reputation in these parts, as you and I well know, without a single shred of character left; altogether not a man to whom a father would marry his daughter of his own free will, or one with whom a young girl is likely to find happiness.”
“You draw a flattering picture of me, I must say.”
“Not at all, only a true one.”
“Well, if I am all you say, how is it that you are prepared to allow your daughter to marry me at all?”