Diffident, yet smiling, she drew conclusions.

'So, you see, you'll make money--you'll be an R.A .-- you'll _marry_--and Mr.Fenwick will nurse the grandchildren.

I assure you--that's the fairy-tale way.' Fenwick, who had flushed hotly, turned away and occupied himself in replenishing his palette.
'Papa, of course, would say--Don't marry till you're a hundred and two!' she resumed.

'But pray, don't listen to him.' 'I dare say he's right,' said Fenwick, returning to his easel, his face bent over it.
'Not at all.

People should have their youth together.' 'That's all very well.