"You find fault with her; so do I, and frankly admit she is the last woman in the world I should have chosen for you if I could help it, but she is one of the richest girls in England.

And after all, though I detest the very sound of it, Trade is now our master.

You object to the girl's youth; that, however, is in her favour.

You can mould her to your own designs, and"-- she casts a bitter glance at him that will not be suppressed--"all women cannot be widows.

Then, as for her being so little a creature, she is surely quite as tall as I am, and your father--you know, Maurice, how devoted he was to me." "Oh yes, poor old Dad!" says Maurice, with a movement that might mean pain.