There's no mistake whatever about that, for I have it in black and white, under my mother's own hand." "Oh, she would select the best of them for you." "No, she wouldn't.

How do you know that ?" "There's no doubt about that." "It depends upon what you mean by the best.

The one _you_ call the best might not seem so to _her_, and so on.

Now I dare say she's picked out for me a great, raw-boned, redheaded niece, with a nose like a horse.

And she expects me to marry a woman like that! with a pace like a horse! Good Lord!" And Hawbury leaned back, lost in the immensity of that one overwhelming idea.
"Besides," said he, standing up, "I don't care if she was the angel Gabriel.