“Well, dad wouldn’t believe you, anyway,” Fanny replied. Her voice deepened again. “Young man, since you are thinking of getting married, I presume you are in a position to support a wife. What is your income?”
Guy looked serious. “I guess I won’t play any more. This is becoming too personal.”
Fanny held her hand at her ear. “I didn’t quite catch what you said. Five thousand?”
“One thousand, since you’re determined to know, inquisitive; one thousand and keep,” Guy replied, snappishly. “I don’t even have to pay my laundry bills. That’s just twenty dollars a week spending money.”
The light faded from Fanny’s eyes. “And you’ve been sending me all those flowers on that?”
“Well, flowers don’t cost so much in Summer. I intended to stop when the cold weather came.”
“But, Guy, dear, I thought you got ever so much more than that! You poor thing! Why, I spend twice as much as that myself, and I’m always sending home for more.”
“Well, I can’t help it if I’m not rich,” Guy grumbled, keeping his face turned from her.
Fanny inspected him carefully, as if taking an inventory. “Do you know what dad would do?” she asked. Guy knew that her eyes were on him; but he refused to look at her.
“Eh?” he said.