He was really in an excellent humor then; the seclusion and almost romance of the old place soothed his nerves, which were somewhat jaded with the rush and tear of a life not lived too worthily.

He and Kitty were strolling up and down in the moonlight, and when she asked her question and looked up at him with her fine, intelligent, sympathetic face, he pulled her little ear affectionately, and pushed back the tendrils of soft, dark hair from her brow.
"The usual thing, Kitty," he responded.

"I'm in the usual sort of scrape." "Money ?" asked Catherine.
"Confound the thing, yes.

Why was money invented?
It's the plague of one's life, Catherine.

If there was no money there'd be no crime." "Nonsense," answered Catherine, with shrewdness.