"Which of them should I not make happy?" — Rufus went on. —
"Rose? — She is easily made happy."
"So easily, that you would be much more than enough for it."
"Then it is the other one whose happiness you are afraid for?"
"I don't think it is in much danger from you."
"Why? —what then?" said Rufus quickly.
"I doubt whether any one could succeed with her whose first object was something else."
Rufus drew his fingers through his hair, in silence, for about a minute and a half; with a face of thoughtful and somewhat disagreeable consideration.
"And with the other one you think he could?"
"What?"
"Succeed? — one whose first object, as you say, was something else?"