"Do you? Then your pleasure bears a strong resemblance to my pain. I am to remain a ward till I am twenty-five."
"Indeed?"
Sir Tristram began to rub his hands.
"Yes,—indeed! I had an objectionable uncle who was so foolish as to suppose that I could not be a better judge of my own life's happiness than—a number of elderly gentlemen."
"Hem!" Sir Tristram coughed.
"If I was willing to overlook your offence—" Sir Tristram smiled—"I should require a quid pro quo."
"And what, my dear Miss Cullen, would be the nature of the quid pro quo?"
"'WELL, OLD MAN, HAVE YOU HAD IT OUT WITH TRIGGS?'"
"I should want you to consent to my marrying."