'Tell me about him.'

'Well, he's rich, and good-looking, and amiable'--Cynthia ticked
off these qualities on her fingers--'and I think he's brave, and
he's certainly not so stupid as Mr Broster.'

'And you're very much in love with him?'

'I like him. There's no harm in Peter.'

'You certainly aren't wildly enthusiastic!'

'Oh, we shall hit it off quite well together. I needn't pose to
_you_, Nesta, thank goodness! That's one reason why I'm fond
of you. You know how I am situated. I've got to marry some one
rich, and Peter's quite the nicest rich man I've ever met. He's
really wonderfully unselfish. I can't understand it. With his
money, you would expect him to be a perfect horror.'

A thought seemed to strike Mrs Ford.

'But, if he's so rich--' she began. 'I forget what I was going to
say,' she broke off.

'Dear Nesta, I know what you were going to say. If he's so rich,
why should he be marrying me, when he could take his pick of half
London? Well, I'll tell you. He's marrying me for one reason,
because he's sorry for me: for another, because I had the sense to
make him. He didn't think he was going to marry anyone. A few
years ago he had a disappointment. A girl jilted him. She must