"Ah, that we do!" assented Mrs. Dobbs huskily.
"Well, Mrs. Griffin is always telling me that my money—'a princely fortune' she calls it: but it's a good deal more than that, by what I can hear about princes—lays me under an obligation to marry again."
At the words "princely fortune" Mrs. Dobbs winced, and a deep red flush came into her face; but she answered quietly, "Wealth has its responsibilities, of course, Mr. Bragg."
"Yes, it has; and its troubles. But when all's said and done, it's pleasanter to be rich than poor. I've tried both."
"No doubt. Only—one may pay too dear even for being rich."
"Well, I should be sorry for any lady I married to consider that she paid too dear for being rich."
"Oh, I meant no offence, Mr. Bragg."
"There's nothing you may not pay too dear for, I suppose; except a quiet conscience. You may pay too dear for a wife. And there's two sides to every"—he was about to say "bargain," but he substituted the word "arrangement."
Mrs. Dobbs had taken up her knitting, and was twisting and pulling it with her fingers in a restless, nervous way. When Mr. Bragg made a pause, and looked at her, she said, "Of course, that's quite true."
He went on, "I make bold to hope, Mrs. Dobbs, that you'll give me credit in what I'm going to say, for having some serious reason, and not talking idly, out of pride and vanity; in short, for not being what you might call a fool."