CHAPTER I.THE LOVERS.
"I am very angry," pouted the maid.
"In heaven's name, why ?" questioned the bachelor.
"You have, so to speak, bought me." "Impossible: your price is prohibitive." "Indeed, when a thousand pounds--" "You are worth fifty and a hundred times as much.

Pooh!" "That interjection doesn't answer my question." "I don't think it is one which needs answering," said the young man lightly; "there are more important things to talk about than pounds, shillings, and sordid pence." "Oh, indeed! Such as--" "Love, on a day such as this is.

Look at the sky, blue as your eyes; at the sunshine, golden as your hair." "Warm as your affection, you should say." "Affection! So cold a word, when I love you." "To the extent of one thousand pounds." "Lucy, you are a--woman.

That money did not buy your love, but the consent of your step-father to our marriage.

Had I not humored his whim, he would have insisted upon your marrying Random." Lucy pouted again and in scorn.
"As if I ever would," said she.
"Well, I don't know.