"No doubt;"--and Mr. Longestaffe assumed a great deal of dignity.
"Yes; it was so. I had promised your daughter when she was good enough to listen to the proposition which I made to her, that I would maintain a second house when we should be married."
"It was impossible," said Mr. Longestaffe,--meaning to assert that such hymeneals were altogether unnatural and out of the question.
"It would have been quite possible as things were when that proposition was made. But looking forward to the loss which I afterwards anticipated from the affairs of our deceased friend, I found it to be prudent to relinquish my intention for the present, and I thought myself bound to inform Miss Longestaffe."
"There were other reasons," muttered Mr. Longestaffe, in a suppressed voice, almost in a whisper,--in a whisper which was intended to convey a sense of present horror and a desire for future reticence.
"There may have been; but in the last letter which Miss Longestaffe did me the honour to write to me,--a letter with which I have not the slightest right to find any fault,--she seemed to me to confine herself almost exclusively to that reason."
"Why mention this now, Mr. Brehgert; why mention this now? The subject is painful."

I had promised your daughter that I would maintain a second house when we should be married."
"It was impossible," said Mr. Longestaffe - meaning the marriage.
"It would have been quite possible as things were when I proposed. But on looking forward to the loss which I anticipated, I found it best to relinquish my intention for the present, and I thought myself bound to inform Miss Longestaffe."
"There were other reasons," muttered Mr. Longestaffe, in a suppressed whisper.
"There may have been; but in the last letter which Miss Longestaffe did me the honour to write to me, she seemed to confine herself almost exclusively to that reason."
"Why mention this now, Mr. Brehgert? The subject is painful."
