without any prospect. To be sure, there is religion as a support. But,” she added, dimpling, “it is very different with you, Mary. You may have an offer.”
“Has anyone told you he means to make me one?”
“Of course not. I mean, there is a gentleman who may fall in love with you, seeing you almost every day.”
A certain change in Mary’s face was chiefly determined by the resolve not to show any change.
“Does that always make people fall in love?” she answered, carelessly; “it seems to me quite as often a reason for detesting each other.”
“Not when they are interesting and agreeable. I hear that Mr. Lydgate is both.”
“Oh, Mr. Lydgate!” said Mary, with an unmistakable lapse into indifference. “You want to know something about him,” she added, not choosing