“He said he wanted me for myself; that—that he would love me if I were as poor as a church mouse,” said Florence.
“You did say those words, didn’t you, Michael Reid?” said the Colonel.
Michael dropped his eyes.
“One says a great many things,” was his reply, “that one—doesn’t—”
“Ah, I see,” said the Colonel. “You thought Florence Heathcote would be rich. Florence, don’t leave the room,”—for Florence was moving towards the door—“I wish you to stay, my dear. There is a little lesson which you two young people must learn, and you must learn it now, and in my presence. It will hurt you both for a time, but in the end you will both recover. Now, Michael, you made love to Florence Heathcote, believing her to be well off.”
“Everybody else thought the same,” said Michael Reid.
“Then you didn’t mean that about the church mouse?” said Florence.
“To tell the truth,” said Michael, desperately, “it was quite impossible—I mean, it is quite impossible. I am not at all well off myself—”
“But I said I was willing to wait,” said Florence.
“Let him speak, Florence; don’t interrupt,” said the Colonel.