“I ought to: he deserves that I should.”
“Well,” said my aunt, “I don’t. I am sure he is a very sly person, and I dislike slyness in man or woman. When he visited this house he used to pay Conny a great deal of attention, but always in a sly way. In doing so, he took a very great liberty, considering his position in life, although my husband laughs at me, and declares that I troubled myself more than the occasion needed.”
“Mr. Curling is certainly no match for Conny,” said I.
“Match!” cried my aunt, warmly, “I should think not. Why, all that we know of him is, that he comes from London, from which place he answered an advertisement that Thomas put in the papers for a clerk. I have no wish to say anything harsh of the young man; but he obliges me to think of what he is when he pays my daughter attention.”
“I can’t make head or tail of him,” I answered. “I have frequently tried to get him to talk about Conny, but he always contrives to glide away from the subject.”
“Yes, yes! he is sly—I have always said he is sly.”
“But, after all, aunt, what matters it if Mr. Curling does admire Conny? People can only be prevented from touching—not from looking.”
“Oh, Mr. Curling is welcome to admire,” replied my aunt, with pleasant disdain. “All that I want to be assured of is, that Conny doesn’t care about him.”
“I don’t think she does; at least,” I added, with a twinge of jealousy, “she has never given me to understand by word or look that she cares a farthing for him. If I thought she did——”
“What?” asked my aunt anxiously, seeing that I paused.