However, "Of course," Margaret began, in a crisp voice, "if you advise
Mr. Woods to marry me as a good speculation--"
But her father caught her up, with a whistle. "Eh?" said he. "Love in
a cottage?--is it thus the poet turns his lay? That's damn' nonsense!
I tell you, even in a cottage the plumber's bill has to be paid, and
the grocer's little account settled every month. Yes, by gad, and
even if you elect to live on bread and cheese and kisses, you'll find
Camembert a bit more to your taste than Sweitzer."
"But I don't want to marry anybody, you ridiculous old dear," said
Margaret.