She beautifully thought of it. "Because I'm so good. No matter," she added, "if Mr. Sherringham comes I won't act."
"Won't you act for me?"
"She'll act like an angel," Mrs. Rooth protested. "She might do, she might be, anything in all the world; but she won't take common pains."
"Of one thing there's no doubt," said Miriam: "that compared with the rest of us—poor passionless creatures—mamma does know what she wants."
"And what's that?" Nick inquired, chalking on.
"She wants everything."
"Never, never—I'm much more humble," retorted the old woman; upon which her daughter requested her to give then to Mr. Dormer, who was a reasonable man and an excellent judge, a general idea of the scope of her desires.
As, however, Mrs. Rooth, sighing and deprecating, was not quick to acquit herself, the girl tried a short cut to the truth with the abrupt demand: "Do you believe for a single moment he'd marry me?"
"Why he has proposed to you—you've told me yourself—a dozen times."
"Proposed what to me?" Miriam rang out. "I've told you that neither a dozen times nor once, because I've never understood. He has made wonderful speeches, but has never been serious."