ALINE. I beg your pardon.

CROCKSTEAD. I presume that it is--arranged?

ALINE. [_Haughtily._] Mr. Crockstead, let me remind you that frankness has
its limits: exceeding these, it is apt to degenerate into impertinence.
Be good enough to conduct me to the ball-room.

[_She moves to the door._

CROCKSTEAD. You have five sisters, I believe, Lady Aline? [ALINE _stops
short._] All younger than yourself, all marriageable, and all unmarried?

[ALINE _hangs her head and is silent._

CROCKSTEAD. Your father--

ALINE. [_Fiercely._] Not a word of my father!

CROCKSTEAD. Your father is a gentleman. The breed is rare, and very fine
when you get it. But he is exceedingly poor. People marry for money
nowadays; and your mother will be very unhappy if this marriage of ours
falls through.

ALINE. [_Moving a step towards him._] Is it to oblige my mother, then,
that you desire to marry me?

CROCKSTEAD. Well, no. But you see I must marry some one, in mere
self-defence; and honestly, I think you will do at least as well as any