"That's just the point," said he. "I'm an adorer of the sex."
"Well, then?" questioned she, at a loss. "How can you 'prayerfully' wish to remain a bachelor? Besides, aren't you heir to a peerage? What of the succession?"
"That's just the point," he perversely argued. "And you know there are plenty of cousins."
"Just the point! just the point!" fretted Lady Blanchemain. "What's just the point? Just the point that you aren't a woman-hater?—just the point that you're heir to a peerage? You talk like Tom o' Bedlam."
"Well, you see," expounded John, unruffled, "as an adorer of the sex, and heir to a peerage, I shouldn't want to marry a woman unless I could support her in what they call a manner becoming her rank—and I couldn't."
"Couldn't?" the lady scoffed. "I should like to know why not?"
"I'm too—if you will allow me to clothe my thought in somewhat homely language—too beastly poor."
"You—poor?" ejaculated Lady Blanchemain, falling back.
"Ay—but honest," asseverated John, to calm her fears.
She couldn't help smiling, though she resolutely frowned.