“Heart?” repeated Jack, with a suspicion of hereditary cynicism. “I do not think heart is of much consequence. Besides, in this case, surely that is my province! you would not have her wear it on her sleeve?”
“She could not do that: not enough sleeve.”
Sir John Meredith had his own views on ladies' dress.
“But,” he added, “we will not quarrel. Arrange matters with the young lady as best you can. I shall never approve of such a match, and without my approval you cannot well marry.”
“I do not admit that.”
“Indeed?”
“Your approval means money,” explained this dutiful son politely. “I might manage to make the money for myself.”
Sir John moved away.
“You might,” he admitted, looking back. “I should be very glad to see you doing so. It is an excellent thing—money.”
And he walked leisurely away.