“Oh, I take it you know very well that we are looking for a husband, and that none but tremendous swells need apply. Surely, before these gentlemen, mamma, I may speak freely; they are disinterested. Mr. Mallet won’t do, because, though he ‘s rich, he ‘s not rich enough. Mamma made that discovery the day after we went to see you, moved to it by the promising look of your furniture. I hope she was right, eh? Unless you have millions, you know, you have no chance.” “I feel like a beggar,” said Rowland. “Oh, some better girl than I will decide some day, after mature reflection, that on the whole you have enough. Mr. Hudson, of course, is nowhere; he has nothing but his genius and his beaux yeux.” Roderick had stood looking at Christina intently while she delivered herself, softly and slowly, of this surprising nonsense. When she had finished, she turned and looked at him; their eyes met, and he blushed a little. “Let me model you, and he who can may marry you!” he said, abruptly. Mrs. Light, while her daughter talked, had been adding a few touches to her coiffure. “She is not so silly as you might suppose,” she said to Rowland, with dignity. “If you will give me your arm, we will go and look at the bust.” “Does that represent a silly girl?” Christina demanded, when they stood before it. Rowland transferred his glance several times from the portrait to the original. “It represents a young lady,” he said, “whom I should not pretend to judge off-hand.” “She may be a fool, but you are not sure. Many thanks! You have seen me half a dozen times. You are either very slow or I am very deep.” “I am certainly slow,” said Rowland. “I don’t expect to make up my mind about you within six months.” “I give you six months if you will promise then a perfectly frank opinion. Mind, I shall not forget; I shall insist upon it.” “Well, though I am slow, I am tolerably brave,” said Rowland. “We shall see.” Christina looked at the bust with a sigh. “I am afraid, after all,” she said, “that there ‘s very little wisdom in it save what the artist has put there. Mr. Hudson looked particularly wise while he was working; he scowled and growled, but he never opened his mouth. It is very kind of him not to have represented me gaping.” “If I had talked a lot of stuff to you,” said Roderick, roundly, “the thing would not have been a tenth so good.” “Is it good, after all? Mr. Mallet is a famous connoisseur; has he not come here to pronounce?”