"The right to what?"
"To warn Apollo off. Gabrielle, I'm in love with you—you know it."
She looked up; his eyes devoured her.
"What is the good of our being in love?"
"You don't mean to say you are thinking of the beastly money?"
"Harry!"
"Well, then, don't ask me. I've three hundred a year, and I'm going with Barlean in Throgmorton Street when the cricket season's over. That's a half-commission job, and my cricketing friends will rally round. If I tour Australia next year, they'll pay my expenses, and I'll make them pretty hot. We could be married when I come back, Gabrielle."
She laughed, and half turned her head.
"It's quite like a fairy story. And so mercenary! It's just like a business deal."
"Well, your father will ask for a balance sheet, and there it is—totted up by 'Why not' and audited by 'Expectation.' Why don't you say something about it?"