"I see: while I am single I have a personality, when I marry I lose it, when I am a widow I regain it. You could not have improved upon that sentence."
"Why not?" asked George.
"In its repetition of the most important letter in the alphabet. Now for plan number three."
"But I have said nothing about myself yet!" cried George.
"Don't try. You are finding it very disagreeable, I am sure; and after all I can guess. This house ought to be converted into a mansion, and you mean to do it. This village sadly needs a squire, resident magistrate, pillar of uprightness; and you fully intend to supply that want."
George nodded, and hoped she would go on talking like that, blinking after the fashion of a tomcat who has just enjoyed a bowl of cream.
"I have all sorts of plans for my future, but they are not properly arranged yet. Aunt Sophy blocks them all. I am not ambitious," George blundered on, "but I do mean to have a comfortable home, luxurious armchairs, piles of cushions, deep carpets, felt slippers, and good cigars. I don't care how simple my food is, so long as I have good tobacco, and the very finest tea obtainable. I should like to turn the parlour into a tea house, with a divan at one end where I could lie and smoke—sometimes."
"A dream of Turkish delight!" laughed Nellie. "What is the third plan?"
"Concerning finance, and there I can't be beaten," replied George promptly.
"I thought you were rolling in money."