Daisy wouldn't be eighteen till the week after next.

They might wait till she was twenty.

By that time Old Aunt might be dead, and Daisy might have come into quite a tidy little bit of money.
"What are you smiling at ?" said his wife sharply.
And he shook himself.

"I--smiling?
At nothing that I knows of." Then he waited a moment.

"Well, if you will know, Ellen, I was just thinking of Daisy and that young chap Joe Chandler.