Lady Dunstane thought it an occasion to praise him for his considerateness.
'You involve no one but yourself, you mean ?' Her eyes shed approval.
'Still the day may come...

I say only that it may: and the wish to marry is a rosy colouring...

equal to a flying chariot in conducting us across difficulties and obstructions to the deed.

And then one may have to regret a previous rashness.' These practical men are sometimes obtuse: she dwelt on that vision of the future.
He listened, and resumed: 'My view of marriage is, that no man should ask a woman to be his wife unless he is well able to support her in the comforts, not to say luxuries, she is accustomed to.' His gaze had wandered to the desk; it fixed there.

'That is Miss Merion's writing,' he said.
'The letter ?' said Lady Dunstane, and she stretched out her hand to press down a leaf of it.