“Apart,” sighed Lucy.
“Only for the next six months; then we can get our cottage and live on love, my dearest.”
“Plus three hundred a year,” said the girl sensibly then she added, “Oh, poor Frank Random!”
“Lucy,” cried her lover indignantly.
“Well, I was only pitying him. He's a nice man, and you can't expect him to be pleased at our marriage.”
“Perhaps,” said Hope in an icy tone, “you would like him to be the bridegroom. If so, there is still time.”
“Silly boy!” She took his arm. “As I have been bought, you know that I can't run away from my purchaser.”
“You denied being bought just now. It seems to me, Lucy, that I am to marry a weather-cock.”
“That is only an impolite name for a woman, dear. You have no sense of humor, Frank, or you would call me an April lady.”
“Because you change every five minutes. H'm! It's puzzling.”