"
"Are you trying to be light and amusing," returned Brown, severely, "or
are you supposed to be discussing the matter seriously? What attraction
could such a girl have for such a man as Reuben Neil?"
"Every attraction," I retorted. "She is the exact moral contrast to
himself. She is beautiful (if she's not beautiful enough, we can touch
her up a bit), and, when the father dies, there will be the shop."
"Besides," I added, "it will make the thing seem more natural if
everybody wonders what on earth could have been the reason for their
marrying each other."
Brown wasted no further words on me, but turned to MacShaughnassy.
"Can _you_ imagine our friend Reuben seized with a burning desire to
marry Mary Holme?" he asked, with a smile.
"Of course I can," said MacShaughnassy; "I can imagine anything, and
believe anything of anybody. It is only in novels that people act
reasonably and in accordance with what might be expected of them. I knew
an old sea-captain who used to read the _Young Ladies' Journal_ in bed,
and cry over it. I knew a bookmaker who always carried Browning's poems
about with him in his pocket to study in the train. I have known a
Harley Street doctor to develop at forty-eight a sudden and overmastering
passion for switchbacks, and to spend every hour he could spare from his
practice at one or other of the exhibitions, having three-pen'orths one
after the other.
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