“Unfortunately, most men cannot afford to be too sincere.” Ordham smiled grimly. “For instance, I could not dream of marrying a poor girl. And it must be far easier even to love a pretty rich girl than a pretty poor one. We have not been brought up on the love-in-a-cottage ideal, and when we try it generally come a cropper.”
She remembered that he had taken her breath away with his audacious candour more than once during the fortnight of their previous acquaintance, and smiled gayly.
“But a rich girl _can_ be loved. That is the point to bear in mind. It is Mabel’s argument, by the way, and even I believe that a really lovely woman need not be eclipsed by her money. Of course I am quite aware of your point of view. But all the same I believe you to be capable of what the world calls folly.”
“You mean that I would marry a poor girl?”
“Possibly. But I know of no folly that I have less intention of committing.”
“Oh, I don’t say that you will. It is merely your capacity for the sudden and romantic wrecking of your life that makes you so interesting.” She stooped and recovered the leash. Her face, when she stood upright once more, was flushed, but she looked him straight in the eyes. “I have always hoped that you would marry Mabel,” she said, and her courage touched his chivalric nerve while it flushed his face. “I shall be perfectly frank. I wished it from the moment we met. She was too young to think of such a thing, and you were obliged to remain in Germany. But now—she has developed quite wonderfully, and you are quite free. I shall continue to be frank. When I brought Mabel over Lady Bridgminster took a great fancy to her, and I feel sure that she had some such idea herself, although naturally we could not speak of it; but latterly she seems to have taken a dislike to the poor child, and to have set her heart upon a frightfully plain English heiress—”
“She heard my opinion on that subject last night. I fancy she will not broach it again.” Ordham spoke ironically, but his blush had deepened and he moved about nervously.
Mrs. Cutting shook her head with a little absent gesture of despair. “Your mother is not the woman to relinquish lightly any cherished plan, and this Lady Rosamond Hayle seems to be a particular friend of hers. You could never be married against your will—at least I think you could not. But you will see Lady Rosamond quite intimately, you will become fascinated with her virtues, which no one can dispute, and forget her plainness.”