"Of course I don't understand. Such a one as I cannot lift myself so high above the earth. Great families form a sort of heaven of their own, which poor broken, ill-conditioned, wretched, common creatures such as I am cannot hope to comprehend. But, by heaven, what a lot of the vilest clay goes to the making of that garden of Eden! Look here, George;--you have nothing of your own?" "Not much, indeed." "Nothing. Is not that so? You can answer me at any rate." "You know all about it," he said,--truly enough, for she did know. "And you cannot earn a penny." "I don't know that I can. I never was very good at earning anything." "It isn't gentlemanlike, is it? But I can earn money." "By George! yes. I've often envied you. I have indeed." "How flattering! As far as it went you should have had it all,--nearly all,--if you could have been true to me." "But, Lucy,--about the family?" "And about your debts? Of course I couldn't pay debts which were always increasing. And of course your promises for the future were false. We both knew that they were false when they were made. Did we not?" She paused for an answer, but he made none. "They meant nothing; did they? He is dead now." "Morton is dead?" "Yes; he died in San Francisco, months ago." "I couldn't have known that, Lucy; could I?" "Don't be a fool! What difference would it have made? Don't pretend anything so false. It would be disgusting on the very face of it. It mattered nothing to you whether he lived or died. When is it to be?" "When is what to be?" "Your marriage with this ill-looking young woman, who has got money, but whom you do not even pretend to love." It struck even George that this was a way in which Emily Hotspur should not be described. She had been acknowledged to be the beauty of the last season, one of the finest girls that had ever been seen about London; and, as for loving her,--he did love her. A man might be fond of two dogs, or have two pet horses, and why shouldn't he love two women! Of course he loved his cousin. But his circumstances at the moment were difficult, and he didn't quite know how to explain all this. "When is it to be?" she said, urging her question imperiously. In answer to this he gave her to understand that there was still a good deal of difficulty. He told her something of his position with Captain Stubber, and defined,--not with absolute correctness,--the amount of consent which Sir Harry had given to the marriage. "And what am I to do?" she asked. He looked blankly into her face. She then rose again, and unlocking a desk with a key that hung at her girdle, she took from it a bundle of papers.