"And George will marry some time," she said curtly.
"Oh, I hope so! And soon. Then I shall have a daughter.
I know just the kind of a wife George will choose,"
she chattered on eagerly. "I understand him so
thoroughly that I can understand her. But where could he
find her? He is so absurdly fastidious!"
Miss Vance was silent and thoughtful a moment. Then she
came closer. "I will tell you where to find her," she
said, in a low voice. "I have thought of it for a long
time. It seems to me that Providence actually made Lucy
Dunbar for George."
"Really?" Mrs. Waldeaux drew her self up stiffly.
"Wait, Frances. Lucy has been with me for three years.
I know her. She is a sincere, modest, happy little
thing. Not too clever. She is an heiress, too. And her
family is good; and all underground, which is another
advantage. You can mould her as you choose. She loves
you already."
"Or is it that she----?"
"You have no right to ask that!" said Miss Vance quickly.
"No, I am ashamed of myself." Mrs. Waldeaux reddened.
A group of girls came up the deck. Both women scanned
the foremost one critically. "I like that wholesome,
candid look of her," said Miss Vance.
"Oh, she is well enough," said Frances. "But I am sure
George does not like yellow hair. Nothing but an
absolutely beautiful woman will attract him."
"An artist," said Miss Vance hastily, "would tell you her
features were perfect. And her flesh tints----"
"For Heaven's sake, Clara, don't dissect the child.
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