It was not very easy to answer that question. His lordship was more disposed indeed to ask questions than answer them, and therefore, instead of replying to the question of his friend, he said: "Now what would you advise me to do?" "Make her an offer of a handsome establishment. I suppose she is violently in love with you." "I cannot be quite sure of that," replied his lordship; "but I believe I am not quite disagreeable to her." "There is something in that," replied Erpingham; "but not much. According to your account of this Miss Primrose, it should seem that she is of a good family, and perhaps the arrangement that you contemplate would not be acceded to." "That," answered his lordship, "is what I most fear; and I will acknowledge to you that I am so far in love, that rather than lose her I would actually marry her." "Marry her," exclaimed the Epicurean; "marry her! Impossible!" Saying this, Erpingham roused himself from his indolent lounging posture, and with much greater energy than he was accustomed to use, he said: "Spoonbill, I am not much in the habit of either giving or taking advice, but I will for once so far advise you as to say, that if you contemplate marrying Miss Primrose, you must not on any account whatever make her any other offer." "Why so?" replied his booby lordship, with a stare of awkward astonishment. "Why so!" echoed his friend; "because, if the young lady has a proper sense of her own dignity, she will not accept an offer of marriage from one who has made her an offer of another description; and if she has not that sense of dignity, but merely makes a profitable market of your passion for her, she will despise you for a fond fool, and you, when your fondness is over, will look upon her as a cunning, artful baggage. I know nothing about Miss Primrose; but I am very sure that no woman is fit to be a wife who could ever forgive a proposal of a different description." The sagacious hereditary legislator could not understand this logic, and he stared at his friend as if he thought that he was crazy. "Bless my soul, Erpingham," at length he said, "what nonsense you are talking. I really cannot understand you. What can be more natural and regular than to offer her marriage, if she will not accept me on any other terms. You talk about hating sentimentality; I am sure you are now talking as much sentimentality as any one need wish to hear." Erpingham had exerted himself so much by the two last speeches which he had made, as not to wish to continue the discussion, or to undergo any more blundering interrogations from his noble friend; he therefore began to resume his indolent attitude, and said, "Well, do as you like best, Spoonbill, only remember I did not refuse my advice when you asked it. Will you stop now and take your dinner with me?"