"Oh, I say," Tod fell back in his chair, "you go too far. I don't hold a brief for Rebb, but he wouldn't be such a blackguard as that. Besides, he has six thousand a year. I know that for a fact."
"Who told you?"
"Mrs. Berch."
"What! Mrs. Crosby's mother?"
"Yes. A grim old lady, ain't she? Rather like my grandmother. She is not very fond of Rebb, as he is not very polite to her. Still, she wants Mrs. Crosbie to marry him, because of the money. How she found out, I can't say; but she certainly stated that Rebb had the income I mentioned."
"But I thought that both Mrs. Berch and her daughter were well off?"
"They assume to be," answered Tod, with a shrug and a wink--"that is, they have a slap-up flat, and go everywhere, and Mrs. Crosbie wears expensive frocks, although the old woman looks like a rag-shop at times."
"That may not be lack of money, but indifference to dress."
"Humph! As if any woman, old or young, could be indifferent to frocks. Anyhow Mrs. Crosbie is supposed to be a wealthy widow in the market; but if she wants to marry Major Rebb, who is not a nice man, and if Mrs. Berch wants to be Rebb's mother-in-law, it strikes me that the two may not be so rich as they pretend."
"Well! well! well!" cried Gerald impatiently, "we are wandering from the subject. Rebb, you say, has six thousand a year?"