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but—no!’
    ‘No, no, Lord Marlow’s daughter!’ she replied, laughing. ‘He married Verena Ingham, who was my dearest friend, and the most captivating creature!’
    ‘Better and better!’ he approved. ‘Why have I never encountered the captivating Lady Marlow?’ He stopped, frowning. ‘But I have! I’m not acquainted with her—in fact, I don’t remember that I’ve ever so much as spoken to her, but I must tell you, Mama, that whatever she may have been in her youth—’
    ‘Good heavens, that odious woman is Marlow’s second! Verena died when her baby was not a fortnight old.’
    ‘Very sad. Tell me about her!’
    ‘I don’t think you would be much the wiser if I did,’ she answered, wondering if he was trying to divert her mind from the memories he had himself evoked. ‘She wasn’t beautiful, or accomplished, or even modish, I fear! She defeated every effort to turn her into a fashionable young lady, and never appeared elegant except in her riding-dress. She did the most outrageous things, and nobody cared a bit—not even Lady Cork! We came out in the same season, and were the greatest of friends; but while I was so fortunate as to meet Papa—and to fall in love with him at sight, let me tell you!—she refused every offer that was made her—scores of them, for she never lacked for suitors!—and declared she preferred her horses to any man she had met. Poor Lady Ingham was in despair! And in the end she married Marlow, of all people! I believe she must have liked him for his horsemanship, for I am sure there was nothing else to like in him. Not a very exciting story, I’m afraid! Why did you wish to hear it?’
    ‘Oh, I wished to know what sort of a woman she was! Marlow I do know, and I should suppose that any daughter of his must be an intolerable bore. But your Verena’s child might be the very wife for me, don’t you think? You would be disposed to like her, which must be an object with me; and although I don’t mean to burden myself with a wife who wants conduct, I should imagine that there must be enough of Marlow’s blood in this girl to leaven whatever wildness she may have inherited from her mother. Eccentricity may be diverting, Mama, but it is out of place in a wife: certainly in my wife!’
    ‘My dear, what nonsense you are talking! If I believed you meant it I should be most seriously disturbed!’
    ‘But I do mean it! I thought you would have been pleased, too! What could be more romantic than to marry the girl who was betrothed to me in her cradle?’
    She smiled, but she did not look to be much amused. His eyes searched her face; he said in the caresssing tone he used only to her: ‘What is it, my dear? Tell me!’
    She said: ‘Sylvester, you have talked of five girls who might perhaps suit you; and now you are talking of a girl of whose existence you were unaware not ten minutes ago—and as though you had only to decide between them! My dear, has it not occurred to you that you might find yourself rebuffed?’
    His brow cleared. ‘Is that all? No, no, Mama, I shan’t be rebuffed!’
    ‘So sure, Sylvester?’
    ‘Of course I’m sure, Mama! Oh, not of Miss Marlow! For anything I know, her affections may be engaged already.’
    ‘Or she might take you in dislike,’ suggested the Duchess.
    ‘Take me in dislike? Why should she?’ he asked, surprised.
    ‘How can I tell? These things do happen, you know.’
    ‘If you mean she might not fall in love with me, I daresay she might not, though I know of no reason, if she doesn’t love another man, why she shouldn’t come to do so—or, at any rate, to like me very tolerably! Do you suppose me to be so lacking in address that I can’t make myself agreeable when I wish to? Fie on you, Mama!’
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t know you had so much address that you could beguile no fewer than five girls of rank and fashion to be ready to accept an offer from you.’
    He could not resist. ‘Well, Mama, you said