Capitalists and financiers -- Fiction; Commercial crimes -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction; Satire
"The more likely to make a good wife."
"Perhaps so. I am at any rate quite willing to believe that as wife
she would be 'good enough for me.'"
"What does the mother say?"
"The mother is a caution. I cannot help speculating whether, if I
marry the daughter, I shall ever find out where the mother came from.
Dolly Longestaffe says that somebody says that she was a Bohemian
Jewess; but I think she's too fat for that."
"What does it matter, Felix?"
"Not in the least."
"Is she civil to you?"
"Yes, civil enough."
"And the father?"
"Well, he does not turn me out, or anything of that sort. Of course
there are half-a-dozen after her, and I think the old fellow is
bewildered among them all. He's thinking more of getting dukes to
dine with him than of his daughter's lovers. Any fellow might pick
her up who happened to hit her fancy."
"And why not you?"
"Why not, mother? I am doing my best, and it's no good flogging a
willing horse. Can you let me have the money?"
"Oh, Felix, I think you hardly know how poor we are. You have still
got your hunters down at the place!"
"I have got two horses, if you mean that; and I haven't paid a
shilling for their keep since the season began. Look here, mother;
this is a risky sort of game, I grant, but I am playing it by your
advice. If I can marry Miss Melmotte, I suppose all will be right.
But I don't think the way to get her would be to throw up everything
and let all the world know that I haven't got a copper. To do that
kind of thing a man must live a little up to the mark. I've brought
my hunting down to a minimum, but if I gave it up altogether there
would be lots of fellows to tell them in Grosvenor Square why I had
done so."
There was an apparent truth in this argument which the poor woman was
unable to answer. Before the interview was over the money demanded
was forthcoming, though at the time it could be but ill afforded, and
the youth went away apparently with a light heart, hardly listening
to his mother's entreaties that the affair with Marie Melmotte might,
if possible, be brought to a speedy conclusion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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