no longer a child. She is a woman, and, if I may say so, a very charming and talented woman. The man who succeeds in winning her love will be extremely lucky. I repeat it—extremely lucky.”
“Oh, I daresay,” said Lord Caterham. “But she’s very restless, you know. Never content to be in one place for more than two minutes together. However, I dare say young fellows don’t mind that nowadays.”
“You mean that she is not content to stagnate. Eileen has brains, Caterham; she is ambitious. She interests herself in the questions of the day, and brings her fresh and vivid young intellect to bear upon them.”
Lord Caterham stared at him. It occurred to him that what was so often referred to as “the strain of modern life” had begun to tell upon George. Certainly his description of Bundle seemed to Lord Caterham ludicrously unlike.
“Are you sure you are feeling quite well?” he asked anxiously.
George waved the inquiry aside impatiently.
“Perhaps, Caterham, you begin to have some inkling of my purpose in visiting you this morning. I am not a man to undertake fresh responsibilities lightly. I have a proper sense, I hope, of what is due to the position I hold. I have given this matter my deep and earnest consideration. Marriage, especially at my age, is not to be undertaken without full—er—consideration. Equality of birth, similarity of tastes, general suitability, and the same religious creed—all these things are necessary and the pros and cons have to be weighed and considered. I can, I think, offer my wife a position in society that is not to be despised. Eileen will grace that position admirably. By birth and breeding she is fitted for it, and her brains and her acute political sense cannot but further my career to our mutual advantage. I am aware, Caterham, that there is—er—some disparity in years. But I can assure you that I feel full