'I wonder if you would favour me with your idea of what might be a good time?'
'I don't know. Perhaps never. I am greatly obliged to you for the honour you have done me. I beg you to believe me when I say this. But I don't think I shall ever marry. I have other duties. I can't do what I like with my life.'
At this Sir Rufus made her stop again, to tell him what she meant by such an extraordinary speech. What overwhelming duties had she, pray, and what restrictions upon her life that made her so different from other women? He could not, for his part, imagine a woman more free. She explained that she had her mother, who was terribly delicate and who must be her first thought and her first care. Nothing would induce her to leave her mother. She was all her mother had except Macarthy, and he was absorbed in his profession.
'What possible question need there be of your leaving her?' the Englishman demanded. 'What could be more delightful than that she should live with us and that we should take care of her together? You say she is so good as to like me, and I assure you I like her—most uncommonly.'
'It would be impossible that we should take her away from my brother,' said the girl, after an hesitation.
'Take her away?' And Sir Rufus Chasemore stood staring. 'Well, if he won't look after her himself—you say he is so taken up with his work—he has no earthly right to prevent other people from doing so.'
'It's not a man's business—it's mine—it's her daughter's.'
