"I don't."
"What!"
"Not enough to marry you. I could if I let myself go, but I've just stopped myself in time. I can't ever marry you."
"But, look here——"
"Yes?"
"Suppose you do marry a rich man, I don't see how it will benefit your father."
"Won't it! I'll never marry a man who won't help father, and he wants help. Oh! if you only knew our affairs," said Miss Lambert, picking a daisy and looking at it, and apparently addressing it, "the hair would stand up on the top of your head."
"Are they so bad as all that, Fanny?"
"Bad isn't the word," replied Miss Lambert, plucking the petals from the daisy one by one. "He loves me—he loves me not—he loves me—he loves me not—he loves me."
"Who?"