"Yes, but why can't you marry me?"
"We're too poor."
"I'll be making lots of money soon."
"How much?"
"Oh, four or five hundred a year."
"That's not enough," said Fanny with a sigh, "not nearly enough."
Leavesley gazed at the mercenary beauty before him. Had he miscalculated her? was she after all like other girls, a daughter of the horse leech?
"I'd marry you to-morrow," resumed she, "if you hadn't a penny—only for father."
"What about him?"
"I must help him. I must marry a rich man or not marry at all. There——"