I came home and dressed and I'm going back to the
Craigs' to marry a girl whose mother and father won't let me have her."
"Sit down, Gerald," said Selwyn, removing the cigar from his lips; but:
"I haven't time," said the boy. "I simply want to know what you'd do if
you loved a girl whose mother means to send her to London to get rid
of me and marry her to that yawning Elliscombe fellow who was over
here. . . . What would you do? She's too young to stand much of a siege
in London--some Englishman will get her if he persists--and I mean to
make her love me."
"Oh! Doesn't she?"
"Y-es. . . . You know how young girls are. Yes, she does--now. But a
year or two with that crowd--and the duchess being good to her, and
Elliscombe yawning and looking like a sleepy Lohengrin or some damned
prince in his Horse Guards' helmet!--Selwyn, I can see the end of it.
She can't stand it; she's too young not to get over it. . . . So, what
would you do?"
"Who is she, Gerald?"
"I won't tell you.
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