No--the home-grown article will do. One thing, though--I
should like her to be--merciful.
ALINE. I don't understand.
CROCKSTEAD. I have a vague desire to do something with my money: my wife
might help me. I should like her to have pity.
ALINE. Pity?
CROCKSTEAD. In the midst of her wealth I should wish her to be sorry for
those who are poor.
ALINE. Yes. And, as regards the rest--
CROCKSTEAD. The rest I leave to you, with absolute confidence. You will
help me?
ALINE. I will try. My choice is to be final?
CROCKSTEAD. Absolutely.
ALINE. I have an intimate friend--I wonder whether she would do?
CROCKSTEAD. Tell me about her.
ALINE. She and I made our debut the same season. Like myself she has
hitherto been her mother's despair.
CROCKSTEAD. Because she has not yet--
ALINE. Married--yes. Oh, if men knew how hard the lot is of the
portionless girl, who has to sit, and smile, and wait, with a very
desolate heart--they would think less unkindly of her, perhaps--[_She
smiles._] But I am digressing, too.
CROCKSTEAD. Tell me more of your friend.
ALINE. She is outwardly hard, and a trifle bitter, but I fancy sunshine
would thaw her. There has not been much happiness in her life.
CROCKSTEAD. Would she marry a man she did not love?
ALINE. If she did you would not respect her?
CROCKSTEAD. I don't say that. She will be your choice; and therefore
deserving of confidence. Is she handsome?
ALINE. Well--no.
CROCKSTEAD. [_With a quick glance at her.
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