“Since you ask me,” said Newman, “I will say frankly that I want extremely to marry. It is time, to begin with: before I know it I shall be forty. And then I’m lonely and helpless and dull. But if I marry now, so long as I didn’t do it in hot haste when I was twenty, I must do it with my eyes open. I want to do the thing in handsome style. I do not only want to make no mistakes, but I want to make a great hit. I want to take my pick. My wife must be a magnificent woman.” “Voilà ce qui s’appelle parler!” cried Mrs. Tristram. “Oh, I have thought an immense deal about it.” “Perhaps you think too much. The best thing is simply to fall in love.” “When I find the woman who pleases me, I shall love her enough. My wife shall be very comfortable.” “You are superb! There’s a chance for the magnificent women.” “You are not fair.” Newman rejoined. “You draw a fellow out and put him off guard, and then you laugh at him.” “I assure you,” said Mrs. Tristram, “that I am very serious. To prove it, I will make you a proposal. Should you like me, as they say here, to marry you?” “To hunt up a wife for me?” “She is already found. I will bring you together.” “Oh, come,” said Tristram, “we don’t keep a matrimonial bureau. He will think you want your commission.” “Present me to a woman who comes up to my notions,” said Newman, “and I will marry her tomorrow.” “You have a strange tone about it, and I don’t quite understand you. I didn’t suppose you would be so coldblooded and calculating.” Newman was silent a while. “Well,” he said, at last, “I want a great woman. I stick to that. That’s one thing I can treat myself to, and if it is to be had I mean to have it. What else have I toiled and struggled for, all these years? I have succeeded, and now what am I to do with my success? To make it perfect, as I see it, there must be a beautiful woman perched on the pile, like a statue on a monument. She must be as good as she is beautiful, and as clever as she is good. I can give my wife a good deal, so I
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