"The young lady is very rich, isn't she?" asked Jones, shrewdly.
"She has a moderate fortune," replied Orton, guardedly; "but that doesn't influence me."
"Of course not," said Jones; but there was something in his tone which made Campbell eye him sharply.
"I am no fortune-hunter," said he, stiffly.
"You'd want to marry her just the same if she hadn't a cent?"
"Of course I would," snapped Orton.
"Now, that's what I call real love," said Jones. "To be sure, you're rich yourself, and needn't mind."
"Precisely so. I may not be rich, but I can support a wife."
"As the young lady prefers some one else, I suppose we may as well go home?"
"That's what I want to talk to you about, Jones. Very likely this Dewey is dead; at any rate, he's a mere fortune-hunter. Now, although Florence doesn't care to marry me now, if our marriage could be brought about she would no doubt be reconciled to it after a while. Now, Jones, have you anything to suggest?"