"Yes; she is a very good little girl," said Rufus, better pleased with a compliment to Rose than he would have been with one to himself.
"I understand you are in business in Wall Street, Mr. Rushton."
"Yes," said Rufus. "I am in the office of Mr. Turner."
"I sometimes tell Mr. Clifton I wish he would go into business in Wall Street. He keeps a dry-goods store on Eighth Avenue."
"Can't remember ever hearing you mention the idea, Mrs. C——," remarked her husband, who sat on the other side, in a pause between two mouthfuls. "There aint much money in dry goods just now, by jove! I'll open in Wall Street, if you say the word."
Mrs. Clifton slightly frowned, and did not see fit to answer the remark made to her. Her husband was not very brilliant, either in business, wit, or in any other way, and she had married him, not from love, but because she saw no other way of escaping from being an old maid.
"Do you know, Mr. Rushton," said Mrs. Clifton, "you remind me so much of a very intimate friend of mine, Mr. Hunter?"
"Do I?" added Rufus. "I hope he is good-looking."
"He's very handsome," said Mrs. Clifton, "and so witty."
"Then I'm glad I'm like him," said Rufus.