There evidently was not a point in common between foolish Christian Oakley, taking dreamy twilight saunters under the apple-trees--not alone; looking up to her companion as something between Sir Launcelot and the Angel Gabriel--and this girl, carrying on a clandestine flirtation, which she hoped would--and was determined to make--end in a marriage, with a young man much above her own station, and just because he was so.

As for loving him in the sense that Christian had understood love, Miss Bennett was utterly incapable of it.

She never thought of love at all--only of matrimony.
Still, the facts of the case boded ill.

A wealthy young nobleman, and a pretty, but coarse and half-educated shopkeeper's daughter--no good could come of the acquaintance--perhaps fatal harm.

Once more Christian thought she would try to conquer her disgust, and win the girl to better things.
"I do not wish to intrude--no third person has a right to intrude upon these affairs; but I wish I could be of any service.