"You are very handsome, certainly, dear Clara—very handsome. Mr. Boscawen says you are a very beautiful girl."
"Well," replied Clara, smiling complacently, "I must be up and be doing. Sir Foster is very rich."
"Oh! Clara, and so is Mr. Boscawen: but I never have any money. Once Mr. Boscawen gave me a guinea, and then took it back again because I would not keep an account of all I spent. I bought a shilling's worth of alicampane, and made myself so ill! However, I did not say I had bought it; so, as I could not account for the shilling, I was obliged to relinquish the rest. Don't marry an old man, Clara!"
"Sir Foster lets every body spend his money, Isabel."
"Ah, but remember what Mr. Boscawen promised, Clara! I was promised every thing, and got nothing. You don't know how disagreeable it is to be shut up in a morning, reading and translating."
"I shan't read or translate to please Sir Foster," said Clara, with scornful energy. "I marry upon other principles."
"Well, Clara, only try not to marry an old man, for I assure you it is a very unpleasant thing."
"I wonder if Sir Foster will call to-morrow, Isabel?"
"Oh, to be sure he will: I am sure I should, if any one asked me."