"Any man is, when he is in love, mamma."
Tom came and stood by the mantelpiece, confronting them. He was a remarkably handsome young man; tall, well formed, very well dressed, hair and moustaches carefully trimmed, and features of regular though manly beauty, with an expression of genial kindness and courtesy.
"I am not in love," he said, half laughing. "But I will tell you,—I never saw a nicer girl than Lois Lothrop. And I think all that you say about her being poor, and all that, is just—bosh."
The newspapers went down.
"My dear boy, Julia is right. I should be very sorry to see you hurt your career and injure your chances by choosing a girl who would give you no sort of help. And you would regret it yourself, when it was too late. You would be certain to regret it. You could not help but regret it."
"I am not going to do it. But why should I regret it?"
"You know why, as well as I do. Such a girl would not be a good wife for you. She would be a millstone round your neck."
Perhaps Mr. Tom thought she would be a pleasant millstone in those circumstances; but he only remarked that he believed the lady in question would be a good wife for whoever could get her.
"Well, not for you. You can have anybody you want to, Tom; and you may just as well have money and family as well as beauty. It is a very bad thing for a girl not to have family. That deprives her husband of a great advantage; and besides, saddles upon him often most undesirable burdens in the shape of brothers and sisters, and nephews perhaps. What is this girl's family, do you know?"
"Respectable," said Tom, "or she would not be a cousin of Mrs. Wishart.
And that makes her a cousin of Edward's wife."