as a son-in-law. Your absence of means, of a profession, of visible resources or prospects, places you in a category from which it would be imprudent for me to select a husband for my daughter, who is a weak young woman with a large fortune. In any other capacity I am perfectly prepared to like you. As a son-in-law, I abominate you!"
Morris Townsend listened respectfully. "I don't think Miss Sloper is a weak woman," he presently said.
"Of course you must defend her—it's the least you can do. But I have known my child twenty years, and you have known her six weeks. Even if she were not weak, however, you would still be a penniless man."
"Ah, yes; that is my weakness! And therefore, you mean, I am mercenary—I only want your daughter's money."
"I don't say that. I am not obliged to say it: and to say it, save under stress of compulsion, would be very bad taste. I say simply that you belong to the wrong category."
"But your daughter doesn't marry a category," Townsend urged, with his handsome smile. "She
