"Harold is coming some night soon." "What for ?" "To have a talk with you." Her father smote his paper.

"What did she tell you about him ?" he asked.
"Not much more than she told you.

His parents are dead--but he has a rich widowed aunt in Bridgeport who adores him.

They mean to be married the end of May.

She wants a church wedding, bridesmaids, ushers--the wedding reception here, of course--" "Oh, Lord," breathed Roger dismally.
"We won't bother you much, father dear--" "You _will_ bother me much," he retorted.