The American Baron: A Novel

by James De Mille

"Well, why don't you tell me what you think of him, and all that sort of thing? You might, you know."

"Think of him!" repeated Mrs. Willoughby, elevating her eyebrows.

"Yes, think of him; and you needn't go and make faces about him, at any rate."

"Did I make faces? Well, dear," said Mrs. Willoughby, patiently, "I'll tell you what I think of him. I'm afraid of him."

"Well, then," said Minnie, in a tone of triumph, "now you know how I feel. Suppose he saved your life, and then came in his awfully boisterous way to see you; and got you alone, and began that way, and really quite overwhelmed you, you know; and then, when you were really almost stunned, suppose he went and proposed to you? Now, then!"

And Minnie ended this question with the air of one who could not be answered, and knew it.

"He's awful—perfectly awful!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "And the way he treated you! It was so shocking."

"I know; and that's just the horrid way he always does," said Minnie, in a plaintive tone. "I'm sure I don't know what to do with him. And then he's Lord Hawbury's friend. So what are we to do?"

"LOOK AT THE MAN!"