"She does not think of me at all," said he, sitting down again, and facing Mrs. Barclay with an earnest face. "She hardly knows me. Her attention has been taken up, I fancy, with another suitor."
"Another suitor! You are not going to be Quixote enough to educate a wife for another man?"
"No," said he, half laughing. "The other man is out of the way, and makes no more pretension."
"Rejected? And how do you know all this so accurately?"
"Because he told me. Now have you done with objections?"
"Philip, this is a very blind business! You may send me to this place, and I may do my best, and you may spend your money,—and at the end of all, she may marry somebody else; or, which is quite on the cards, you may get another fancy."
"Well," said he, "suppose it. No harm will be done. As I never had any fancy whatever before, perhaps your second alternative is hardly likely. The other I must risk, and you must watch against."
Mrs. Barclay shook her head, but the end was, she yielded.