“I know, sir,” said Captain Hornby, “that Elsa is twenty-five, but all the same I would very much like your permission to marry her if you feel equal to it.”
Mr. Belton, finding himself at a slight disadvantage in his armchair before the tall form of Captain Hornby, also got up and walked to the hearthrug. Mrs. Belton had a fleeting impression, gathered from old novels, that he was going to marry the young couple out of hand, over the tongs or by consent before witnesses, but she knew this was nonsense and looked at her husband’s face. What she saw reassured her.
“As you say, parents’ permission isn’t needed and what is more it doesn’t seem to be wanted nowadays,” said Mr. Belton, speaking with such gravity and honesty that his wife felt extremely proud of him. “But you are doing the rig
