"Why, St. John, do you wish to marry that child?" she exclaimed.
"Why not? She is eighteen."
"Yes, but I had never thought of her as old enough to be married. Have you spoken to her?"
"Yes," he returned slowly, and with a cloud on his face.
"And what did she say?"
"Nothing—that is, she was taken by surprise and did not wish to discuss the matter at present."
Mrs. Ruthven drew a breath of relief. "She was sensible. Have you any reason to think that she loves you?"
"I think she will soon. I am not conceited, Aunt Alice, but I think I have a good appearance and—I am a Ruthven."
"You are much older than she, St. John."
"I am, but a man of my age is still a young man."