He had almost finished the letter when Gilbert knocked on his door and shouted, "Can I come in, Quinny?"
He put the letter under the blotting paper, and called, "Yes, Gilbert!" in reply.
"Aren't you ready yet?" Gilbert asked.
"No, not yet, but I won't be long changing!"
"Righto!" said Gilbert, going to the other window and looking across the fields. "Rum go about Ninian's uncle, isn't it?" he said, playing with the tassle of the blind.
"Eh?" said Henry.
"There must be something low in a man who marries a woman like that, don't you think?"
"Oh, I don't know. Why should there be?"
"Obvious, isn't it? I mean, there can't be much in common otherwise, can there? Unless the man's a sentimental ass. It's as if you or I were to marry one of the girls out there in the yard, milking the cows. She'd be awfully useful for that job ... milking cows ... but you wouldn't want her to be doing it all the time. It depends, I suppose, on what you want to do. If you've got any ambition!..."
He did not finish the sentence, but Henry understood and nodded his head as if he agreed with him.