“What, Gwladys or Myfanwy? My dear Usk!”
“Why, mater, I had made up my mind to propose to one of them in due time, simply because I thought you were so fond of them.”
“As helpers in the parish, perhaps. But not to marry you.”
“It’s just as well that we have had this explanation, then, for I should certainly have done it.”
“I am most thankful you haven’t. And Mr Jones—oh, Usk!”
“Mater, I’m afraid you’re a very worldly woman.”
“Am I? I hope not. But perhaps I am, though I don’t think there’s anything wrong in preferring a Princess of Schwarzwald-Molzau to Miss Jones. No, I’m afraid you’re right. I have always been so anxious people should not think your father had done himself harm in marrying me. It was pride, of course, because I used to hope you would both make brilliant marriages. But I couldn’t wish Phil to have chosen differently—though I wish she lived in England. But I should like you to marry well, Usk.”
“Then, on your own rule of conduct, I ought to go and propose to Miss Jones at once, so as to mortify your pride, oughtn’t I?”
“No, it would not be fair to Princess Helene. We have her to think of too, you know.” Usk raised his eyebrows at this sophistry. “I—I should like you to go back with your uncle, Usk.”
“And propose immediately to the poor little girl?”