Besides, he is not a marrying man.
Bassett and Huntercombe will be mine.

And oh! Miss Bruce, if ever they are mine--" "Sir Charles Bassett!" trumpeted a servant at the door; and then waited, prudently, to know whether his young lady, whom he had caught blushing so red with one gentleman, would be at home to another.
"Wait a moment," said Miss Bruce to him.

Then, discreetly ignoring what Bassett had said last, and lowering her voice almost to a whisper, she said, hurriedly: "You should not blame him for the faults of others.
There--I have not been long acquainted with either, and am little entitled to inter--But it is such a pity you are not friends.

He is very good, I assure you, and very nice.

Let me reconcile you two.