"You are not doing anything so immoral as to suggest that I should
marry for money?" I asked.
George carefully removed the ash from his cigar.
"To contract an alliance with a wealthy woman," he observed, "is not
necessarily the same as what you are pleased to call marrying for
money."
"No, George," I said. "I hope I'm sufficiently English to appreciate
the difference."
"Besides," he went on, disregarding my interruption, "marriage must
always be a matter of give and take. If a woman brings you a
reasonable dowry, you, on the other hand, are able to offer her one
of the oldest names in the country, an unimpeachable social position,
and--er--a certain measure of youth and good looks."
I picked up one of the Savoy tablespoons, and contemplated my
reflection in its highly polished surface. I can only conclude that
it did not do me justice.
"That's all very well," I said; "but where does one find these gilded
and easily pleased females?"
Again George's brow contracted.
"There are plenty of charming girls in society, who at the same time
are by no means paupers. You are sure to find one or two at Grendon,
for instance."