"He'd like to be," said Ingleton with his face bent over the
morning paper.

"Then why isn't he?" demanded Mrs. Ingleton with asperity. "He is
a rich country gentleman, and he has a position in the County.
What more could you possibly want for her?"

Reluctantly the squire made answer. "Oh, I'm willing enough. He's
quite a decent chap so far as I know. I dare say he'd make her
quite a good husband if she'd have him. But she won't. So there's
an end of that."

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Mrs. Ingleton. "And, pray, why won't she?"

"Why? Oh, because there's another fellow, of course. There always
is," growled Ingleton. "Girls never fall in love with the right
man. Haven't you found that out yet?"

"I have found out," said Mrs. Ingleton tartly, "that Sylvia is a
most wilful and perverse girl, and I think you are very unwise to
put up with her whims. I should be ashamed to have a girl of that
age still on my hands."

"I'd like to know how you'd have managed her any differently,"
muttered the squire, without looking up.

Mrs. Ingleton laughed unpleasantly. "You don't know much about
women, do you, my dear? Of course I could have managed her
differently. She'd have been comfortably married for the past two
years at least if I had been in command."