“Oh! after supper Mr Grove and his friend Barnes began to discuss the harbour question, and I very foolishly allowed myself to be drawn into the discussion. Mr Green was there, the great western merchant. He is a long-headed fellow, that. You must know him, Mr Ruthven.”
“I know him well. He is a remarkably clever business-man, and a good fellow; though, I suppose, few know it so well as I do. I had a long illness in C once, and he nursed me as if I had been a brother. I might have known him for years in the way of business, without discovering his many excellent qualities. He has the name of being rather hard in the way of business, I believe?”
“He has a clear head of his own,” said Arthur; “I enjoyed a talk with him very much. He intends visiting Europe, he tells me.”
“Well, what next?” said Rose, to whom Mr Green and his good qualities were matters of indifference.
“Then I came home. Mr Green walked down the street with me.”
“And didn’t you see Miss Grove, the belle of the evening!” exclaimed Rose.
“Oh, yes! I had the honour of an introduction to her. She is a pretty little thing.”
“Pretty! Is that all you can say for the belle? How does she look? Is she fair or dark? What colour are her eyes?”
“I can hardly say. She would be called fair, I think. I can’t say about her eyes. She has a very pretty hand and arm, and—is aware of it.”
“Don’t be censorious, Arthur! Does she wear curls? And what did she say to you?”