‘I do believe you,’ replied the old gentleman, ‘and I am happy in the belief. I have never doubted it; I never shall. I am sure I never shall.’

‘It’s always as well to talk that way,’ returned old Arthur, with a chuckle, ‘whether there’s anybody to hear us or not. Practice makes perfect, you know. Now, if I offer myself to Bray as his son–in–law, upon one simple condition that the moment I am fast married he shall be quietly released, and have an allowance to live just t’other side the water like a gentleman (he can’t live long, for I have asked his doctor, and he declares that his complaint is one of the Heart and it is impossible), and if all the advantages of this condition are properly stated and dwelt upon to him, do you think he could resist me? And if he could not resist ME, do you think his daughter could resist HIM? Shouldn’t I have her Mrs Arthur Gride—pretty Mrs Arthur Gride—a tit–bit—a dainty chick—shouldn’t I have her Mrs Arthur Gride in a week, a month, a day—any time I chose to name?’