“Why not?”
“Her prospects are so splendid,” said Jim’s mother, vehemently.
Cheriton assumed his gravest air.
“My dear Mrs. Lascelles,” said he, “do you assure me seriously that the splendid nature of the young lady’s prospects renders her unfit for your son?”
“Oh no,” said Jim’s mother; “I would not say that exactly. That is——”
“Precisely,” said Cheriton. “That is the point I wished to elucidate. It seemed to me so painfully unmaternal that a woman and a mother should consider a girl too good for her son. My dear Mrs. Lascelles, if you will condescend to heed the advice of an amateur you will see that your son marries her. If girls will be so stupid they must take the consequences.”
“Do you really think I ought?”
“You know you ought, Mrs. Lascelles,” said Cheriton, almost sternly. “And you know that you will. It is the least that a woman and a mother can do.”
The mother of Jim Lascelles sighed deeply.
“Yes, Lord Cheriton,” said she, “I am afraid you are right.”