“Oh—I see! Just a tradesman who’s made some money, I s’pose, and now his wife wants to climb. Did you ever read that novel about some ‘climbers’?”
“No, but I’ve heard of it. The Ashbys are not that sort.”
“But not the sort that can help me with Dodo, either, I see,” said Mrs. Alexander, thoughtfully for her.
“Dodo?”
“Yes, she’s my daughter. It’s because of her that I’m going over to the other side. I’ve heard say there are titles going begging for American millionaires since the war. And Dodo isn’t bad looking, even if she isn’t as prepossessing as I used to be—and am yet, I can say.”
Eleanor could hardly believe she had heard aright. An American mother from Denver going to exchange her child for a title! And the absolute egotism with which she mentioned her own looks and behavior!
“Well!” thought Eleanor to herself, “I was looking for entertainment, and here I have more of it than I dreamed of.”
“Does your daughter agree with you about marrying a title?” Eleanor could not help asking.
“She doesn’t say anything about it, one way or another. I told her what she had to do, and that settles it.”
“How old is she?” wondered Eleanor aloud.