"Indeed! you are quite mistaken on that point."
"At any rate, you have come to the determination that it is a most foolish, if not most dangerous and presumptuous act, ever to attempt to mar a match."
"I have come to the determination that there is one thing more foolish, dangerous, and presumptuous, namely, to make one."
"Oh, if you mean to apply that to me, you are quite at fault. You seem to give me all the credit of this business; I assure you it is more than I can lay claim to. I never saw a match which seemed more truly one of those said to be made in heaven. Why, years ago, at that fête at Morland before we married, I now perfectly remember Eugene telling me after it was over, that he had never met with a sweeter little girl than that Miss Seaham, whom he had good-naturedly taken under his charge, and the first night he met her here, after Mary's arrival, he hardly took his eyes off her all the evening; whilst Mary tells me she had never forgotten him since he was so kind to her at that fête. But even if it were not so, I cannot imagine why you should set your face so much against the marriage."
"Really!" responded the husband, shrugging his shoulders.
"No; any one else would think it a splendid match for Mary."
"I have no doubt of that."
"And, under her circumstances, so peculiarly desirable."
"Oh! certainly—peculiarly so."
"I really think (petulantly) you must be in love with Mary yourself." (A look of ineffable scorn was the sole response.) "That is to say, if you could be in love with any one but yourself."