She passes by the little sentimentalism with silent contempt. "I shall certainly outlive you," she says confidently. "Women mostly outlive men, even when they are of the same age. We lead slower, safer lives. If I spend all my life here, I shall probably creep on, like a tortoise, to a hundred."
"But you will not spend all your life here?" he cries, eagerly.
She shrugs her shoulders. "Cela dépend. I shall live here as long as Jack remains unmarried."
"That will not be very long, I prophesy," cries Brandon, cheerfully. "A farmer requires a wife more than most men."
"More than a soldier, certainly," retorts she, with a malicious smile.
He laughs; too warm and lazy and content to be offended, and makes ineffectual passes at a gnat that has settled upon his nose. "Has he never yet shown even a preference for any one?" he asks, feeling a more personal interest than he had ever before experienced in Jack's amours and amourettes.
"Not that I am aware of; Jack and I never show preferences for any one, nor does any one ever show a preference for us; we are a good deal too poor to be in any demand."
"I am glad of it."
"You may have the doubtful satisfaction of knowing that no one ever showed the slightest inclination to be your rival."
"So much the better; I don't want you any the less because nobody else wants you."