"I think, Mary," Miss Robertson said to her friend, "you don't need to be afraid of your brother marrying in a hurry."
"Afraid?" said Mary.
"Yes. Now, confess you wouldn't like it. You would not like to be shunted, you know."
"Well I should not, but I should like to see him happy, and if he got a good wife—"
"Ay, but what wife would you think good enough for him? There's the rub."
"I hope he'll be wisely guided," Mary said.
"So do I; but, as I said, I don't think you need be afraid: he won't be in a hurry—he does not even care for a flirtation."
"Oh no: my brother is always in earnest whatever he does—in thorough earnest. I don't think he could even imagine such a thing as a flirtation."
"Well, he is very much stupider than I take him to be if he couldn't."
"He is not stupid: it is the want of stupidity or silliness that makes trifling of that kind impossible to him," said Mary.