'It is quite true. There is no doubt about it. Stodel's man with the roulage brought me word direct from your step-mother.' George immediately began to inquire within himself why Stodel's man with the roulage had not brought some word direct to him, and answered the question to himself not altogether incorrectly. 'O, yes,' continued Madame Faragon, 'it is quite true--on the 15th of October. I suppose you will be going over to the wedding.' This she said in her usual whining tone of small complaint, signifying thereby how great would be the grievance to herself to be left alone at that special time. 'I shall not go to the wedding,' said George. 'They can be married, if they are to be married, without me.' 'They are to be married; you may be quite sure of that.' Madame Faragon's grievance now consisted in the amount of doubt which was being thrown on the tidings which had been sent direct to her. 'Of course you will choose to have a doubt, because it is I who tell you.' 'I do not doubt it at all. I think it is very likely. I was well aware before that my father wished it.' 'Of course he would wish it, George. How should he not wish it? Marie Bromar never had a franc of her own in her life, and it is not to be expected that he, with a family of young children at his heels, is to give her a dot.' 'He will give her something. He will treat her as though she were a daughter.' 'Then I think he ought not. But your father was always a romantic, headstrong man. At any rate, there she is,--bar-maid, as we may say, in the hotel,--much the same as our Floschen here; and, of course, such a marriage as this is a great thing; a very great thing, indeed. How should they not wish it?' 'O, if she likes him--!' 'Like him? Of course, she will like him. Why should she not like him? Young, and good-looking, with a fine business, doesn't owe a sou, I'll be bound, and with a houseful of furniture. Of course, she'll like him. I don't suppose there is so much difficulty about that.' 'I daresay not,' said George. 'I believe that women's likings go after that fashion, for the most part.' Madame Faragon, not understanding this general sarcasm against her sex, continued the expression of her opinion about the coming marriage. 'I don't suppose anybody will think of blaming Marie Bromar for accepting the match when it was proposed to her. Of course, she would do as she was bidden, and could hardly be expected to say that the man was above her.' 'He is not above her,' said George in a hoarse voice. 'Marie Bromar is nothing to you, George; nothing in blood; nothing beyond a most distant cousin. They do say that she has grown up good-looking.' 'Yes;--she is a handsome girl.'