“I would not marry Archie Rowland if there was not another man in the world,” said Rosamond calmly. “Indeed, you may say there is not another man in the world, for I have no intention of marrying at all.”
“Then you are treating him as badly as can be,” said Eddy, “and you ought to be turned out of the house.”
“I!” said Rosamond, raising her calm eyebrows a little. “Why? It is only men who are pulled up for behaving badly. I am bringing him into shape. He is a great deal better already, and you will see he will behave quite decently at the ball.”
“If we could only find out,” said Eddy, who after all was but moderately interested in that side of the question which did not concern himself, “whether old Rowland means to divide the money! I should think he would, an old fellow with a sense of justice and who has made his own money. Why shouldn’t the girl have as much as the boy?”
“Why shouldn’t I have Gilston as well as you? That,” said Rosamond, “cuts both ways.”
“That’s quite a different thing,” said Eddy. “Gilston isn’t money, the more’s the pity; I wish it was.”
“You may be very glad it is not; for it would soon be gone in that case, and nothing would be left.”
“Well,” said Eddy, reflectively, “it’s always bait to catch a fish; no money, but a fine old house in the country, and a good name. The question is,” he said with much gravity, “whether it’s good enough to spend all that upon this little girl here, and perhaps find out at the end that she was no such prize after all? Why can’t one go honestly to the man and ask him, ‘What do you mean to give your daughter?’”
“You might try,” said Rosamond, with a laugh.
“And get turned out of the house! They would do it in France and never think twice; but in England it must be love, forsooth—Love!” said Eddy, with great disdain. “What is there to love in a little chit like that?”