"Marry, by all means!" cried Sir Patrick. "You are one of the few men
who can try that experiment with a fair chance of success."

The suddenness of the answer fairly took away Arnold's breath. There was
something perfectly electric in the brevity of his venerable friend. He
stared harder than ever.

"Don't you understand me?" asked Sir Patrick.

"I don't understand what the moist sugar has got to do with it, Sir."

"You don't see that?"

"Not a bit!"

"Then I'll show you," said Sir Patrick, crossing his legs, and setting
in comfortably for a good talk "You go to the tea-shop, and get your
moist sugar. You take it on the understanding that it is moist sugar.
But it isn't any thing of the sort. It's a compound of adulterations
made up to look like sugar. You shut your eyes to that awkward fact, and
swallow your adulterated mess in various articles of food; and you and
your sugar get on together in that way as well as you can. Do you follow
me, so far?"

Yes. Arnold (quite in the dark) followed, so far.

"Very good," pursued Sir Patrick. "You go to the marriage-shop, and
get a wife. You take her on the understanding--let us say--that she
has lovely yellow hair, that she has an exquisite complexion, that her
figure is the perfection of plumpness, and that she is just tall enough