Lady Sophia, trying to discover what was in his mind, leaned back in her arm-chair and looked at him with keen and meditative eyes. She did not for one moment suppose that he had honestly surrendered to Winnie’s obstinacy. It was her impression that Theodore was never more dangerous than when he appeared to be defeated.
“I don’t understand,” she confessed.
“I should have thought it was a match after your own heart,” he answered, with a mocking smile. “You have always affected to look down upon our family. Surely you ought to be pleased that the descendant of your ancestral green-grocer should marry the near connection of a coal-heaver. They pair like chalk and cheese.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Theodore!”
“I wonder if she calls him Bertie,” murmured the Canon, thoughtfully.
“I wish to goodness you wouldn’t be so irritating,” said Lady Sophia, sharply. “Do you really intend Winnie to marry him?”
“Of course not, my dear. I intend Winnie to marry young Wroxham.”
“And do you think the best way to bring that about is to let her be engaged to somebody else?”
“My dear Sophia, have you ever known me make a mistake yet?”
“Frequently! Though I’m bound to say I’ve never known you acknowledge it.”