thing, indeed. How should they not wish it?'

'O, if she likes him--!'

'Like him? Of course, she will like him. Why should she not like
him? Young, and good-looking, with a fine business, doesn't owe a
sou, I'll be bound, and with a houseful of furniture. Of course,
she'll like him. I don't suppose there is so much difficulty about
that.'

'I daresay not,' said George. 'I believe that women's likings go
after that fashion, for the most part.'

Madame Faragon, not understanding this general sarcasm against her
sex, continued the expression of her opinion about the coming
marriage. 'I don't suppose anybody will think of blaming Marie
Bromar for accepting the match when it was proposed to her. Of
course, she would do as she was bidden, and could hardly be expected
to say that the man was above her.'

'He is not above her,' said George in a hoarse voice.

'Marie Bromar is nothing to you, George; nothing in blood; nothing
beyond a most distant cousin. They do say that she has grown up
good-looking.'

'Yes;--she is a handsome girl.'

'When I remember her as a child she was broad and dumpy, and they
always come back at last to what they were as children. But of