"In everything. That is, unless it was to your own disadvantage—or what would certainly be regarded so. You mean me to be frank, I think?"
"Of course! In any case, I am not sure that you are capable of concealing your sentiments."
"Then," said Coulthurst gravely, "I should like you to remember that Grace has nothing."
Mrs. Esmond smiled. "And Geoffrey has a good deal? Still, we have it on excellent authority that the value of a good woman is above rubies."
Major Coulthurst was red-faced and burly, and usually abrupt in his movements; but his attitude became him as he made his companion a little grave inclination.
"Grace is very like her mother—I cannot say more than that."
Perhaps it was not very tactful; though he did not know what the gossips had whispered when he was a reckless subaltern long ago. In any case, he had married a woman with as few possessions as he himself had, and his life had been a hard one ever since. His companion, however, smiled somewhat curiously.
"I think she is in many ways like her father too; but that is scarcely the point," she said. "I have offered to take care of her for you."
"Well," said Coulthurst quietly, "when the time comes we will try to decide, and in the meanwhile I can only thank you."
Then they joined the others, and for awhile sat talking in the shade, until Geoffrey Esmond, who had taken his place beside them, looked up suddenly with a curious contraction of his face.