"First of all, let's have all the things against it. He's an old man. We mustn't forget that for one minute. And that's a very strong argument indeed. Some people would think it final, but I think that's foolish.... "Secondly, it never entered my head for one instant." (Jenny said this quite deliberately, almost reverently.) "Of course I see now that he's hinted at it very often, but I never understood it at the time. I've always thought of him as a sort of--well--a sort of uncle. And that's another strong argument against it. If it was a right thing to do, oughtn't it to have occurred to me too? I'm not quite sure about that. "Thirdly, it's unsuitable for several reasons. It'll make talk. Here have I been engaged to Frank for ages and broken it off. Can't you imagine how people will interpret that now? I suppose I oughtn't to mind what people say, but I'm afraid I do. Then I'm the Rector's daughter ... and I've been running in and out continually--dining with them, sitting with him alone. Can't you imagine what people--Lady Richard, for instance--will make of it?... I shall be an adventuress, and all the rest of it. That's not worth much as an argument, but it is a ... a consideration. One must look facts in the face and think of the future. "Fourthly, Lord Talgarth probably won't live very long...." (Jenny paused, and then, with extraordinary impressiveness, continued).... "And that, of, course, is perhaps the strongest argument of all. If I could be of any real use to him--" She stopped again. The Rector shifted a little in his chair. It was impossible for him to conceal from himself any longer the fact that up to now he had really been expecting Jenny to accept the offer. But he was a little puzzled now at the admirable array of reasons she had advanced against that. She had put into words just the sensible view of which he himself had only had a confused apprehension; she had analyzed into all its component parts that general sense which one side of him had pushed before him all day--that the thing was really abominable. And this side of him at this time was uppermost. He drew a whistling breath. "Well, my dear," he began, and the relief was very apparent in his voice. But Jenny interrupted. "One minute, please, father! In fairness to--to everyone I must put the other side.... I suppose the main question is this, after all. Am I fond of him?--fond enough, that is, to marry him--because, of course, I'm fond of him; he's been so extraordinarily kind always.... I suppose that's really the only thing to be considered. If I were fond enough of him, I suppose all the arguments against count for nothing. Isn't that so?... Yes; I want you to say what you think." He waited. Still he could make out nothing of her face, though he glanced across the tea-things once or twice. "My dear, I don't know what to say. I--"