"Oh, I know—we both know it's all rot, that sort of thing. But still, as the world goes, one has to remember it; and somehow, although Rose is genuinely fond of his wife, I doubt whether his love would stand much—well, ridicule."
"Ah! And I suppose the child did make herself rather ridiculous in her attempts to welcome a cousin to whom she is doubtless attached."
"It isn't only that." Having once begun, Barry unburdened himself still further. "You know, although I admire Mrs. Rose immensely, and she's a ripping kid really, I'm not a bit sure that the marriage will be a success."
"Why not, Barry?"
"Well, they're unsuited to one another in heaps of ways. Toni is, as I say, a dear little girl, but she's only half-educated, and not in the least intellectual. Sharp in her way—the way of a quick-witted woman—shrewd, and no fool. But you know Rose is rather an exceptional fellow."
"So I have always understood."
"He's clever, you know—and deep, too. Not one of those fellows who are always showing off, but really brilliant; and it's rather a dangerous thing for a shallow woman to marry a man of that sort."
"It's often done, Barry," said the other man quietly.
"Oh, I know, but that doesn't make it any safer. Toni is an out-and-out good sort, as straight as a die, and a merry, light-hearted little thing into the bargain; but she's bound to turn out a disappointment to her husband all the same."
"I don't see why," said Herrick after a moment's pause. "Lots of clever men marry feather-headed women and manage to get along all right."