His friend looked at him harder. “That’s right, my dear chap. Think of all the bearings.”
“She’s a charming girl,” pursued his lordship.
“Of course she’s a charming girl. I don’t know a girl more charming—in a very quiet way. But there are other charming girls—charming in all sorts of ways—nearer home.”
“I particularly like her spirit,” said Bessie’s admirer—almost as on a policy of aggravation.
“What’s the peculiarity of her spirit?”
“She’s not afraid, and she says things out and thinks herself as good as any one. She’s the only girl I’ve ever seen,” Lord Lambeth explained, “who hasn’t seemed to me dying to marry me.”
Mr. Beaumont considered it. “How do you know she isn’t dying if you haven’t felt her pulse? I mean if you haven’t asked her?”
“I don’t know how; but I know it.”
“I’m sure she asked me—over there—questions enough about your property and your titles,” Percy declared.
“She has done that to me too—again and again,” his friend returned. “But she wants to know about everything.”