human
Paul, Paul, she said gently, as she rang the bell and sat down behind the old-fashioned, acorn-topped, silver-plated tea equipage.
gpt
Good-morning, children.
human
My romantic brother feels that I am wasting my young life in marrying Sir John Barclay,
gpt
There are plenty of men who aren't beggars. I _do_ call it disgusting of Grisel to marry an old man simply because he's rich.
human
He's right in theory, you know, darling, she agreed, turning to the girl.
gpt
Everybody'll say the same thing.
human
Oh, I know. Crabbed age and youth--but Sir John--John, I mean--isn't crabbed--that's just the point. He's a perfectly charming man, and everyone says so, mother, and he's ever so young in some ways. He's worth, she added, with an odd little flush of humility,
gpt
Nobody denies that, put in Paul, taking his tea from his mother.
human
You're a useless little baggage enough, everyone knows that. And I shouldn't say a word if there was any chance of you even really liking him, to say nothing of--of---- He broke off, and added gravely, as if he were making use of words that he feared,
gpt
Why, what _do_ you mean, Paul? You're being very rude, and it's wrong of you. Of course Grisel likes Sir John, and--and many women have loved husbands much older than themselves,