“Most certainly, Mr Falcon. And now, when do you propose to visit the Doves?”
“I’ve already looked in at Wedwell Hall, Mr Goodall, on my way up from Newhaven, as I had a packet to deliver as early after landing as possible—that was your brother’s express wish.”
“Was it really? But wouldn’t his awfully sudden death check your ardour a little, and, to be candid, I did not at all understand that you had seen the Doves. Then, of course, you have seen Miss Edith Dove, the squire’s only daughter?”
“I had that honour, sir, and found her a most charming young lady.”
“Well, then, as you have seen the young lady that my poor brother wished his son to marry, you can easily understand what a silly fellow my nephew is not to avail himself of such a splendid opportunity.”
“Say rather of such a golden opportunity, sir, which not one in a thousand could resist.”
“May I ask if Mrs Falcon accompanied you to this country?”
“At present, sir, I am struggling on in single infelicity.”
“Well, to be sure! I was not aware of that. But I perceive that you are of a facetious turn of mind. However, I should advise you to mind how you deal with my nephew, for, beneath a calm demeanour, he is a resolute and touchy young fellow and an expert in athletics,” said the old gentleman, who was really very proud of his nephew. “But perhaps you know what I mean, Mr Falcon?” he added.
“I don’t see much to fear, sir, but until your nephew throws up ballooning, it would be perfect madness for him to go down to Wedwell—to force himself into Miss Dove’s society.”