Why, he can talk quite decently about pictures, and
really likes them."
Warburton listened with a chuckle.
"Has he daughters?"
"Three, and no son. The youngest, about seventeen, an uncommonly
pretty girl. Well, as you say, why shouldn't I marry her and a
quarter of a million? By Jove! I believe I could. She was here with
her father yesterday. I'm going to paint the three girls together.
--Do you know, Warburton, speaking without any foolish vanity, what
astonishes me is to think of the enormous choice of wives there is
for a man of decent appearance and breeding who succeeds in getting
himself talked about. Without a joke, I am convinced I know twenty
girls, and more or less nice girls, who would have me at once, if I
asked them. I'm not a conceited fellow--am I now? I shouldn't say
this to any one else. I'm simply convinced of its being a fact."
Warburton declared his emphatic agreement.
"Seeing that," he added, "why are you in such a hurry? Your
millionaire grocer is but a steppingstone; who knows but you may
soon chum with dukes? If any man living ought to be cautious about
his marriage, it's you."
The artist examined his friend with a puzzled smile.
"I should like to know, Warburton, how much of this is satire, and
how much serious advice. Perhaps it's all satire--and rather
savage?"
"No, no, I'm speaking quite frankly."
"But, look here, there's the awkward fact that I really have gone
rather far with the Crosses.
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