He plucked a bunch of the little yellow flowers and twined them in her curls.
"You're very pretty to-night, Lucy," he answered, "and you know I want to marry you more than anything else in the world. But it would not help us for me to tell her so, though she does profess to like the looks of me. She likes the looks of her money better."
"What's that to do with it?"
"She'd want to know if I expected her to keep us."
"You could say 'No.'"
"Then she'd want to know if I could keep you."
"You could say 'Yes.'"
"But I can't keep you, Lucy. I can't keep myself, not yet, though I have hopes that my luck is changing," he spoke mysteriously.
"Shall we never be married?" she asked wearily, leaning her head upon his shoulder.
"We must wait a little longer."