'Well,' said Mr. Jawleyford, seating himself on the high wire fender immediately below a marble bust of himself on the mantelpiece; 'I think he'll do.'
'Oh, no doubt,' replied Mrs. Jawleyford, who never saw any difficulty in the way of a match; 'I should say he is a very nice young man,' continued she.
'Rather brusque in his manner, perhaps,' observed Jawleyford, who was quite the 'lady' himself. 'I wonder what he was?' added he, fingering away at his whiskers.
'He's rich, I've no doubt,' replied Mrs. Jawleyford.
'What makes you think so?' asked her loving spouse.
'I don't know,' replied Mrs. Jawleyford; 'somehow I feel certain he is—but I can't tell why—all fox-hunters are.'
'I don't know that,' replied Jawleyford, who knew some very poor ones. 'I should like to know what he has,' continued Jawleyford musingly, looking up at the deeply corniced ceiling as if he were calculating the chances among the filagree ornaments of the centre.
'A hundred thousand, perhaps,' suggested Mrs. Jawleyford, who only knew two sums—fifty and a hundred thousand.
'That's a vast of money,' replied Jawleyford, with a slight shake of the head.
'Fifty at least, then,' suggested Mrs. Jawleyford, coming down half-way at once.