The young man flung himself about the bed impatiently. "Oh, what's the use of talking?"
"If she had money you could marry her all right."
"Ah, go to the devil, Thor!" The tone was one of utter exasperation.
Thor persisted. "If she had, let us say, four or five thousand dollars a year of her own—"
Claude stretched his person half-way out of bed. "I said—go to the devil!"
"Well, she has."
"Has what?"
"Four or five thousand dollars a year of her own. That is, she will have it, if you and she get married."
"Say, Thor, have you got the jimjams?"
"I'm speaking quite seriously, Claude. I've always intended to do something to help you out when I got hold of Grandpa Thorley's money; and, if you like, I'll do it that way."