“Come in, my dear,” said Lady Mountjoy, in her most austere voice.  She had a voice which could assume austerity when she knew her power to be in the ascendant.  As Florence entered the room Miss Abbott left it by a door on the other side.  “Take that chair, Florence.  I want to have a few minutes’ conversation with you.”  Then Florence sat down.  “When a young lady is thinking of being married, a great many things have to be taken into consideration.”  This seemed to be so much a matter of fact that Florence did not feel it necessary to make any reply.  “Of course I am aware you are thinking of being married.”

“Oh yes,” said Florence.

“But to whom?”

“To Harry Annesley,” said Florence, intending to imply that all the world knew that.

“I hope not; I hope not.  Indeed, I may say that it is quite out of the question.  In the first place, he is a beggar.”

“He has begged from none,” said Florence.

“He is what the world calls a beggar, when a young man without a penny thinks of being married.”

“I’m not a beggar, and what I’ve got will be his.”

“My dear, you’re talking about what you don’t understand.  A young lady cannot give her money away in that manner; it will not be allowed.  Neither your mother, nor Sir Magnus, nor will I permit it.”  Here Florence restrained herself, but drew herself up in her chair as though prepared to speak out her mind if she should be driven.  Lady Mountjoy would not permit it!  She thought that she would feel herself quite able to tell Lady Mountjoy that she had neither power nor influence in the matter, but she determined to be silent a little longer.  “In the first place, a gentleman who is a gentleman never attempts to marry a lady for her money.”

“But when a lady has the money she can express herself much more clearly than she could otherwise.”

“I don’t quite understand what you mean by that, my dear.”

“When Mr. Annesley proposed to me he was the acknowledged heir to his uncle’s property.”

“A trumpery affair at the best of it.”

“It would have sufficed for me.  Then I accepted him.”

“That goes for nothing from a lady.  Of course your acceptance was contingent on circumstances.”

“It was so;—­on my regard.  Having accepted him, and as my regard remains just as warm as ever, I certainly shall not go back because of anything his uncle may do.  I only say this to explain that he was quite justified in his offer.  It was not for my small fortune that he came to me.”

“I’m not so sure of that.”

“But if my money can be of any use to him, he’s quite welcome to it.  Sir Magnus spoke to me about a pair of ponies.  I’d rather have him than a pair of ponies.”

“I’m coming to that just now.  Here is Mr. Anderson.”

“Oh yes; he’s here.”

There was certainly a touch of impatience in the tone in which this was uttered.  It was as though she had said that Mr. Anderson had so contrived that she could have no doubt whatever about his continued presence.  Mr. Anderson had made himself so conspicuous as to be visible to her constantly.  Lady Mountjoy, who intended at present to sing Mr. Anderson’s praises, felt this to be impertinent.