'Indeed, she couldn't say that she thought much of Mr.Sponge herself; his shirts were coarse, so were his pocket-handkerchiefs; and she never yet saw a real gent without a valet.' Amelia, without any positive intention of giving up Mr.Sponge, at least not until she saw further, had nevertheless got an idea that she was destined for a much higher sphere.

Having duly considered all the circumstances of Mr.Spraggon's visit to Jawleyford Court, conned over several mysterious coughs and half-finished sentences he had indulged in, she had about come to the conclusion that the real object of his mission was to negotiate a matrimonial alliance on behalf of Lord Scamperdale.

His lordship's constantly expressed intention of getting married was well calculated to mislead one whose experience of the world was not sufficiently great to know that those men who are always talking about it are the least likely to get married, just as men who are always talking about buying horses are the men who never do buy them.

Be that, however, as it may, Amelia was tolerably easy about Mr.Sponge.If he had money she could take him; if he hadn't, she could let him alone.
Jawleyford, too, who was more hospitable at a distance, and in imagination than in reality, had had about enough of our friend.

Indeed, a man whose talk was of hunting, and his reading _Mogg_ was not likely to have much in common with a gentleman of taste and elegance, as our friend set up to be.
The delicate inquiry that Mrs.Jawleyford now made, as to 'whether he knew Mr.Sponge to be a man of fortune,' set him off at a tangent.
'ME know he's a man of fortune! _I_ know nothing of his fortune.
You asked him here, not ME,' exclaimed Jawleyford, stamping furiously.
'No, my dear,' replied Mrs.Jawleyford mildly; 'he asked himself, you know; but I thought, perhaps, you might have said something that--' 'ME say anything!' interrupted Jawleyford.