“I have had a letter from Eline: she is coming back with the Erlevoorts on Wednesday. The Howards will remain a little longer at the Horze,” she said.
“Indeed?” answered Vincent. “And when Eline returns I must go, I suppose?” he asked bluntly.
Betsy felt alarmed, but she smiled very pleasantly.
“The idea! Not at all. You know, our house is always open to you, until you have found something for yourself. Don’t you hear anything from—what is the name of that friend in New York?”
“Lawrence St. Clare. No; I have not heard anything from him for some time. You see one forgets one’s friends when they are so far away. I can’t blame him.”
He leaned back in his cane chair with an air of something like resignation. In the meantime he felt himself very well at ease, and agreeably soothed by the luxury which surrounded him. The garden was well kept, rich in flowers and statuary. And in those surroundings, in the presence of Betsy, very elegant in her light summer dress, by the soft glitter of the silver and the Japanese porcelain, he felt himself safe against the many unpleasantnesses of life. It was rest, monotonous if you like, but soothing and refreshing. Betsy he knew how to master, but it was unnecessary to make his power felt; besides, he was too lazy for it. Was not his present life an easy one? what should he trouble himself about?
“What would you say if I were to seek a wife?” he suddenly asked, inwardly thinking of the pleasures a wealthy marriage might provide him. [[202]]
“A wife! oh, a splendid idea! Shall I try and find one for you? What sort of one do you wish?”
“Handsome she need not be, only elegant. Not too unsophisticated or idealistic. Money of course.”
“Of course. A foolish love-affair I certainly don’t look for in you. What do you think of the Eekhofs?”