A woman who had had any experience of the world must have seen through the mother's transparent efforts to know something tangible. Mrs. Dorriman did not, in the least, take it in. She talked placidly enough upon the various topics brought forward by her friend; but she was a perfectly truthful person; she could not invent, she had no imagination, and, therefore, she could neither suppose anything or suggest anything.
"It must be such a comfort, my dear Anne, to have a very rich brother to fall back upon," said Lady Lyons to her one day, watching her face a little eagerly as she spoke.
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dorriman, dubiously, reflecting that, when she was in need of anything, it was always very hard to ask him for it.
"What an immense thing for those girls, unless, indeed, he were to marry."
Mrs. Dorriman looked up, much puzzled by her friend's tone.
"I suppose it is a good thing for them," she said, slowly. "I never think my brother will marry again; he did so love his wife—poor thing!"
"Very nice, very proper," said Lady Lyons, "and, for the girls' sake, let us hope this frame of mind may continue. I am sure, my dear Anne, for their sakes, you would throw your influence against such a step. At his time of life——"
"He is not an old man," said Mrs. Dorriman, very hastily, "and, as for influence—my dear, if my brother wished to marry any one I should probably hear nothing about it till he introduced his wife to me. When he makes up his mind he acts," said Mrs. Dorriman, thinking with a little shiver of her own marriage and other things.
"I am not sure that I think that quite nice in a man," and Lady Lyons unclasped a narrow bracelet that she wore, and clasped it with great care; anxious not to look too much interested, and longing to know more, all the same.
"My brother is not dependent upon women's society; he never has been. His own mother died young, and then he went away—I never was much to him."