“In love! No, of course I am not. Is that so necessary?”

“Most necessary, my dear! Don’t, I beg you, offer marriage where you can’t offer love as well!”

He smiled at her. “You are too romantic, Mama.”

“Am I? But you seem to have no romance in you at all!”

“Well, I don’t look for it in marriage, at any rate.”

“Only in the muslin company?”

He laughed. “You shock me, Mama! That’s a different matter. I shouldn’t call it romance either—or only one’s first adventure, perhaps. And even when I was a greenhead, and fell in love with the most dazzling little bird of Paradise you ever saw, I don’t think I really fancied myself to have formed a lasting passion! I daresay I’m too volatile, in which case—”

“No such thing! You have not yet been fortunate enough to meet the girl for whom you will form a lasting passion.”

“Very true: I haven’t! And since I’ve been on the town for nearly ten years, and may be said to have had my pick of all the eligible debutantes that appear yearly on the Marriage Mart, we must conclude that if I’m not too volatile I must be too nice in my requirements. To be frank with you, Mama, you are the only lady of my acquaintance with whom I don’t soon become heartily bored!”

A tiny frown appeared between her winged brows as she listened to this speech. It was spoken in a bantering tone, but she found it disturbing. “Your pick of them, Sylvester?”

“Yes, I think so. I must have seen all the eligibles, I fancy.”

“And have made quite a number of them the objects of your gallantry—if the things I hear are to be believed!”

“My aunt Louisa,” said Sylvester unerringly. “What an incorrigible gossip your sister is, my dear! Well, if I have now and then shown a preference at least she can’t accuse me of having been so particular in my attentions as to have raised false hopes in any maiden’s bosom!”