“I mean she may get married.”
“Yes,” said Imogene, “but, of course, she can’t expect to make much of a match. She may get a farmer, or mechanic, perhaps.”
“I suppose,” said Tom, “you would not marry a farmer or mechanic?”
“I should think not,” said Imogene, tossing her head. “I have a right to look higher. I may marry a lawyer like pa. What do you expect to be, Mr. Temple?”
“I haven’t thought about it,” said Tom.
“I suppose you won’t have to do anything. You are rich, are you not?”
“I suppose so,” said Tom, who was not inclined to boast of his wealth, “but I shouldn’t be willing to be idle.”
“You might buy an estate and take care of it, and live on your income.”
“Then I should be a farmer.”
“Oh, that’s different. You wouldn’t have to work yourself. What shall I play for you?” asked the young lady, who was now seated at the piano.