The discussion arose in this way.

I had proposed a match between our villain and the daughter of the local chemist, a singularly noble and pure-minded girl, the humble but worthy friend of the heroine.
Brown had refused his consent on the ground of improbability.

"What in thunder would induce him to marry _her_ ?" he asked.
"Love!" I replied; "love, that burns as brightly in the meanest villain's breast as in the proud heart of the good young man." "Are you trying to be light and amusing," returned Brown, severely, "or are you supposed to be discussing the matter seriously?
What attraction could such a girl have for such a man as Reuben Neil ?" "Every attraction," I retorted.

"She is the exact moral contrast to himself.

She is beautiful (if she's not beautiful enough, we can touch her up a bit), and, when the father dies, there will be the shop." "Besides," I added, "it will make the thing seem more natural if everybody wonders what on earth could have been the reason for their marrying each other." Brown wasted no further words on me, but turned to MacShaughnassy.
"Can _you_ imagine our friend Reuben seized with a burning desire to marry Mary Holme ?" he asked, with a smile.
"Of course I can," said MacShaughnassy; "I can imagine anything, and believe anything of anybody.