"You are an angel of love and beauty, dear girl; you have taken a load from my heart and brightened my life this day. I can't tell you how I adore you, how grateful I am for what you have said to me, but I cannot marry you."
"Tom," she cried reproachfully. "Do you think I do not know of that wretched bargain to which you were driven by that terrible publisher?"
"Who told you?"
"Mr. Sheridan."
"Will that old Irishman never learn to keep his mouth shut?"
"Never, while he can do good to a friend by opening it, Tom."
"I 'll sue him if he keeps on."
"That does n't seem to do much good, dear lad; I 've been suing ever since I came here this afternoon, and I do not seem to have accomplished anything. Tom, say we shall be married soon, there 's a dear."
"Bessie," he said slowly, holding her at arm's length, so that he could look deep into her eyes, "I 'll have to get a clerkship somewhere before that can be. My whole literary work is mortgaged for the future."
"You shall not keep that wicked agreement, Tom."