"As a soldier, so they
say, he'll catch up one day with men like Roberts and Kitchener; and as
for his private character--well, you can judge of it from the fact that
he wants to strip himself of all he has so that the Guion name shall owe
nothing to any one outside--"
"Then he's a fool."
"From that point of view--yes. There _are_ fools of that sort, madame.
But there's something more to him."
He found himself reciting glibly Ashley's claims as a suitor in the way
of family, position, and fortune.
"So that it would be what some people might call a good match."
"The best sort of match. It's the kind of thing she's made for--that
she'd be happy in--regiments, and uniforms, and glory, and presenting
prizes, and all that."
"Hm. I shall have nothing to do with it." She rose with dignity. "If my
niece had only held out a little finger--"
"It was a case, madame," he argued, rising, too--"it was a case in which
she couldn't hold out a little finger without offering her whole hand."
"You know nothing about it. I'm wrong to discuss it with you at all. I'm
sure I don't know why I do, except that--"
"Except that I'm an American," he suggested--"one of your own.
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