“Then, Miss Florence,” said Mr. de Brabazon, eagerly, “won’t you accept—aw—my heart and hand? My mother will be charmed to receive you, and I—aw—will strive to make you happy.”
“I appreciate your devotion, I do, indeed, Mr. de Brabazon,” said Florence, earnestly; “but I must decline your offer. I will not marry without love.”
“I don’t mind that,” said Percy, “if you’ll agree to take a feller; you’ll learn in time to like him a little. I am wich—I know you don’t care for that—but I can give you as good a home as your uncle. If you would give me hope—aw——”
“I am afraid I cannot, Mr. de Brabazon, but if you will allow me to look upon you as a friend, I will call upon you if I have need of a friend’s services.”
“Will you, weally?”
“Yes, there is my hand on it. I ought to tell you that I must now earn my own living, and am to give lessons to a young pupil in West —— Street, three hours daily.”
“You don’t mean to say you are actually poor?” said Mr. de Brabazon, horrified.
“Yes, indeed, I am.”
“Then, won’t you let me lend you some money? I’ve got more than I need, I have, ’pon my honor.”
“Thank you, I promise to call upon you if I need it.”