“On the other hand, he proposes to give his daughter one hundred and fifty thousand pounds as her marriage portion.”
Theodore Spratte turned right round and stared at Mrs. Fitzherbert.
“That’s a very large sum,” he smiled.
“It certainly may help the course of true love to run smoothly.”
“No wonder that Lionel was disinclined to accept the Bishop’s advice to become a total abstainer,” the Canon chuckled. “It would really be rather uncivil if he has matrimonial designs on a brewer’s daughter.”
He thoughtfully sipped his wine and allowed this information to settle. Mrs. Fitzherbert turned to somebody else, and the Canon was left for a couple of moments to his own reflections. Presently she smiled at him again.
“Well?”
“I’ll tell you what I wish you would do. I understand you are deputed to find out my views upon the subject.”
“Nothing of the sort,” she interrupted. “Sir John cares nothing for your views. He is a merchant of the old school, and looks upon himself as every man’s equal. I don’t know whether he has thought for a moment of Gwendolen’s future, but you may be quite sure he won’t consider it a very signal honour that she should marry Lionel.”
“You express yourself with singular bluntness,” answered the Canon, mildly.