"Don't mention it," I replied. It is so difficult for a man to say
original things in the presence of the woman he loves! "I have great
news for you. It reads like a fairy tale, you know; happy ever
afterward, and all that."

"Ah!"

"Yes. Do you remember my telling you of a rich uncle who lived in the
South?"

"Is it possible that he has left you a fortune?" she cried, her eyes
shining.

"You have guessed it."

"I am very glad for your sake, Jack. I was beginning to worry about
you."

"Worry about me?"

"Yes. I do not understand how a newspaper man can afford to buy roses
four or five times a week--and exist." She had the habit of being
blunt and frank to her intimate friends. I secretly considered it an
honor when she talked to me like this. "I have told you repeatedly to
send me flowers only once a week. I'd rather not have them at all.
Last week you spent as much as $30 on roses alone. Mr. Holland does
not do that for Ethel, and he has a million."

"I'm not Holland," I said. "He doesn't--that is--I do not think he--."