Her flattery tickled him, but he stuck doggedly to his point.
“Parliament would mean a bigger allowance. Father couldn’t afford it.”
Her tone became light again.
“As to that, you are like poor Beau. You must make the right sort of marriage. Unlike poor Beau, you are well able to do it.”
He moved uneasily.
“Margot—have you talked this over with Father?”
“On my honour—no. Why do you ask?”
“Your views are his views. He put it to me within a few hours of my return home. ‘You must marry a nice little girl with a bit of money.’”
The adjective “little” may have caused her embarrassment. And his voice, as he spoke, was low and troubled. He seemed, too, to be deliberately looking away from her. She saved an awkward situation with a ripple of laughter.
“Why, of course,” she went on, quite herself again. “I could find you half a dozen nice girls. Do you prefer them—little?”