ADAM CHERRY.
Can't you think?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
N-no. Is there anything very dreadful about me, then?
ADAM CHERRY.
Yes, my dear—to a young fellow as proud as he is poor—your money.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
My money! Won't anybody ever lo—like me then because I've got some money?
ADAM CHERRY.
Plenty, my dear. But pennyless young men who fall in love with heiresses are liable to be dubbed "fortune-hunters," and our high-spirited young friend——