“But——” Frances cried, a little bewildered. Then she added: “Well, you may laugh at me if you like. Of course, I am no judge; but if the gentleman is so like her father, cannot she be quite happy in being fond of him, instead of——? Oh no! Marrying is quite different—quite, quite different. I feel sure she would think so, if you were to ask her, herself,” she said.
“And what about the poor old man?”
“You did not say he was a poor old man; you said he was elderly, which means——”
“About my age.”
“That is not an old man. And worldly—which is not like you. I think, if he is what you say, that he would like better to keep his friend; because people can be friends, Sir Thomas, don’t you think, though one is young and one is old?”
“Certainly, Frances—witness you and me.”
She took his arm affectionately of her own accord and gave it a little kind pressure. “That is just what I was thinking,” she said, with the pleasantest smile in the world.
Sir Thomas took Lady Markham aside in the evening and repeated this conversation. “I don’t know who can have put such an absurd rumour about,” he said.
“Nor I,” said Lady Markham; “but there are rumours about every one. It is not worth while taking any notice of them.”
“But if I had thought Frances would have liked it, I should never have hesitated a moment.”