Mrs. Sheldon was inwardly sensible that she was acting foolishly, and this made her only the more indisposed to listen to her niece's remonstrances.
"What objections can you possibly think of, Grace? Perhaps you do not think well of second marriages."
"It is not that, Aunt Caroline. I think second marriages are often wise."
"And why not in this case?" demanded Mrs. Sheldon, coldly.
"You are aware, Aunt Caroline, that you are considerably older than Major Ashton."
"Not so very much older. Major Ashton tells me he is thirty-eight."
"He does not look that. But even then you——"
"Are a little older," admitted the widow, wondering whether Grace knew her real age. At any rate, she knew it would be of no use to call herself forty, as her niece had something like a correct idea of how much she exceeded that age. "However," she added, quickly steering away from a topic which was not acceptable, "that is Major Ashton's affair. I myself made that objection, and mentioned my age, but he said, like a true gentleman as he is, that it was unimportant in comparison with the similarity of our tastes."
"I had not supposed that you and Major Ashton were so similar in your tastes," said Grace, puzzled.
"Because you have never understood or appreciated the major, Grace," returned her aunt.