For a second or two longer she studied the girl cautiously, trying to make up her mind whether there was really any character in Strelsa's soft beauty--anything firmer than material fastidiousness; anything more real than a natural and dainty reticence. Mrs. Sprowl could ride rough-shod over such details. But she was too wise to ride if there was any chance of a check from higher sources. "If you married him it would be very gratifying to me," she said pleasantly. "Come; let's discuss the matter like sensible women. Shall we?" Many people would not have disregarded such a wish. Strelsa flushed and lifted her purple-gray eyes to meet the little green ones scanning her slyly. "I am sorry," she said, "but I couldn't discuss such a thing, you see. Don't you see I can't, dear Mrs. Sprowl?" "Pooh! Rubbish! Anybody can discuss anything," rejoined the old lady with impersonal and boisterous informality. "I'm fond of you. Everybody knows it. I'm fond of Sir Charles. He's a fine figure of a man. You match him in everything, except wealth. It's an ideal marriage----" "Please don't!--I simply cannot----" "Ideal," repeated Mrs. Sprowl loudly--"an ideal marriage----" "But when there is no love----" "Plenty! Loads of it! He's mad about you--crazy!----" "I--meant--on my part----" "Good God!" shouted the old lady, beating the air with pudgy hands--"isn't it luck enough to have love on one side? What does the present generation want! I tell you it's ideal, perfect. He's a good man as men go, and a devilish handsome----" "I know--but----" "And he's got money!" shouted the old lady--"plenty of it I tell you! And he has the entrée everywhere on the Continent--in England--everywhere!--which Dankmere has not!--if you're considering that little whelp!" Stunned, shrinking from the dreadful asthmatic noises in Mrs. Sprowl's voice, Strelsa sat dumb, wincing under the blows of sound, not knowing how to escape. "I'm fond of you!" shrieked the old lady--"I can be of use to you and I want to be. That's why I asked you to tea! I want to make you happy--and Sir Charles, too! What the devil do you suppose there is in it for me except to oblige hi--you both?" "Th-thank you, but----" "I'll bet a shilling that Molly Wycherly let you go about with any little spindle-shanked pill who came hanging around!--And I told her what were my wishes----" "Please--oh, _please_, Mrs. Sprowl----" "Yes, I did! It's a good match! I want you to consider it!--I insist that----" "Mrs. Sprowl!" exclaimed Strelsa, pink with confusion and resentment, "I am obliged to you for the interest you display, but it is a matter----" "What!" "I am really--grateful--but----" "Answer me, child. Has that cursed nephew of mine made any impression on you? Answer me!" "Not the kind you evidently mean!" said Strelsa, helplessly. "Is there anybody else?"