Lady Pomfret smiled ironically. The use of the possessive pronoun tickled her humour. He made so sure that his little plan was hers. And, really, that was very sweet of him. The Squire saw no derision in her smile; he was too much perturbed.
“Ah! What did Ben say?”
The Squire repeated what Ben had said, with pardonable accretions. Lady Pomfret remained perfectly calm. He continued vehemently:
“Ben has the impudence to disapprove. He would like to see Lionel marrying a milkmaid.”
“Surely he never said that?”
“I think he said it, or I said it. No matter! He flung at my head that ignominious marriage of young Fordingbridge.”
“Was it ignominious? The end—twins—seems to have justified the means.”
“Tchah! Well, Mary, you think as I do, bless you! so I shan’t ask for your opinion. Ben has great influence with Lionel.”
“Has he?”
“Of course he has. Ben—damn him!—I beg your pardon, Mary!—might conceivably queer our pitch.”