"What's he like?"
"He's very fine, mother, I think. Christina ought to be a happy woman."
"He hasn't got anything, as I understand?" said Mrs. Copley. "I don't think Mrs. Thayer is at all delighted with the match. I know I shouldn't be."
"Mrs. Thayer does not see things with my eyes, probably; and you don't see them at all, mother, dear, not knowing Mr. Shubrick. Look at my presents; see this lovely cameo ring; Christina gave it to me Christmas Eve; and this brooch is from Mrs. Thayer; and Mr. Thayer gave me this dear little bronze lamp."
"What do you want with such a thing as that? you can't use it."
"Oh, for the antique beauty, mother; and the lovely shape. It's real bronze, and Mr. Thayer says the workmanship is very fine."
"But he has nothing, has he?" said Mrs. Copley, weighing the bronze lamp in her hand disapprovingly.
"Who? He has another just like it. Do you mean Mr. Thayer?"
"Pshaw, child, no! I mean the other man, Christina's intended. He has nothing, has he?"
"I do not know what you call 'nothing.' He has a very fine figure, an excellent face, sense and firmness and gentleness; and a manner that's fascinating. I never saw anybody with a finer manner. I think he has a good deal."