“Is it the custom over here, for the mommas to choose wives for their sons? I don’t know much about Mr Greville, but from the look of him I shouldn’t suppose he was one of that sort. He has a kind of an air as if he’d want a lot of moving, once he got his head set! If he really cares—”
Captain Guest shrugged expressively.
“Oh, for the moment, of course, it’s a case of ‘all for love, and the world well lost,’ but in a few days’ time Miss Ramsden will return home; they will drop out of each other’s lives, and then prudence will come to the fore. There’s a girl whom he has known for years, who is built for him all the way round. I don’t say he’ll like it so much, but he’ll end by marrying her like a good boy.”
“By marrying her money, you mean to say? I see, we Americans aren’t the only mercenary nation in the world, though we get the credit for it sometimes. Well! I’ll wait a while, before I judge. There comes a time in most men’s lives when they forget their fine principles, and see just one thing ahead, and they’ve got to have it! Everything else goes down like ninepins, even if it’s a real stately old mother, with her hair fixed-up like Marie Antoinette. We’ll wait and see if that time comes along for Mr Greville!”
Guest’s lip twitched with amusement.
“You seem to be very experienced on the subject.”
“I am so. I’ve seen quite a good deal of life,” said Cornelia, with the air of a female Methuselah. She did not smirk nor giggle at the insinuation, but accepted it placidly as a matter of course, an occurrence of everyday happening.
Guest studied her critically, as she gazed out of the window. Was she plain, or beautiful? It was difficult to say. The colourless complexion, and sharply pointed nose were serious blemishes, but the mouth was exquisite, and the hair a marvel. How Rossetti would have gloried in painting it, unbound, with the great red-gold waves floating over her shoulders! The eyes were good, too, despite their unusual colour—the colour of a tawny old sherry!
As though attracted by his scrutiny, Cornelia turned her head, and let the golden eyes dwell thoughtfully upon his face.
“Does Mr Greville do anything?” she inquired. “Has he any sort of occupation in life?”