"But when one has both wealth and birth—like you," she persisted, "how do the buyers appear—what do you think of them?"
He leaned close over. "Just what they are worth," he answered—"just what they are worth."
"And what are we worth, Dick?" she said impulsively; "we are buyers—what are we worth?"
"As a general proposition," laying his hand on her arm, and speaking very earnestly, "the Marburys are worth exactly what they measure. You, my dear, have measured up, far up."
She looked at him with searching eyes. "You mean it—you are sure you mean it?"
"Sure—absolutely sure!"
She gave a little sigh of relief. "You are very good—I am satisfied now—if you approve, there will be none who dare disapprove."
"There will be none who care to disapprove," he said. "Yours was a more difficult case than George's—he had only the men to satisfy, and that is easy, where one is a good fellow and a manly. You had the women—and women are jealous, vindictive and irresponsible. But you won. They all are for you—there is not one that is even undecided."
"I am glad, very glad," she said. "I want to please them—I was afraid I had failed. You are a dear to tell me this—a perfect dear, Dick."