“Oh yes, universally. We’re almost as fond of titles as your people.” “I don’t call that a title,” her ladyship smiled. “It’s not so good as duke or marquis, I admit; but we have to take what we’ve got.” “Oh bother, what does it signify?” his lordship demanded from his place at the window. “I used to have a horse named Doctor, and a jolly good one too.” “Don’t you call bishops Doctors? Well, then, call me Bishop!” Jackson laughed. Lady Canterville visibly didn’t follow. “I don’t care for _any_ titles,” she nevertheless observed. “I don’t see why a gentleman shouldn’t be called Mr.” It suddenly appeared to her young friend that there was something helpless, confused and even slightly comical in her state. The impression was mollifying, and he too, like Lord Canterville, had begun to long for a short cut. He relaxed a moment and, leaning toward his hostess with a smile and his hands on his little knees, he said softly: “It seems to me a question of no importance. All I desire is that you should call me your son-in-law.” She gave him her hand and he pressed it almost affectionately. Then she got up, remarking that before anything was decided she must see her child, must learn from her own lips the state of her feelings. “I don’t like at all her not having spoken to me already,” she added. “Where has she gone—to Roehampton? I daresay she has told it all to her godmother,” said Lord Canterville. “She won’t have much to tell, poor girl!” Jackson freely commented. “I must really insist on seeing with more freedom the person I wish to marry.” “You shall have all the freedom you want in two or three days,” said Lady Canterville. She irradiated all her charity; she appeared to have accepted him and yet still to be making tacit assumptions. “Aren’t there certain things to be talked of first?” “Certain things, dear lady?” She looked at her husband, and though he was still at his window he felt it this time in her silence and had to come away and speak. “Oh she means settlements and that kind of thing.” This was an allusion that came with a much better grace from the father. Jackson turned from one of his companions to the other; he coloured a little and his self-control was perhaps a trifle strained. “Settlements? We don’t make them in my country. You may be sure I shall make a proper provision for my wife.” “My dear fellow, over here—in our class, you know—it’s the custom,” said Lord Canterville with a truer ease in his face at the thought that the discussion was over. “I’ve my own ideas,” Jackson returned with even greater confidence. “It seems to me it’s a question for the solicitors to discuss,” Lady Canterville suggested.