"There's a sort of tendency in society," said Peter, "to look
upon the poor man who seeks the hand of a rich woman as a
fortunehunter."

"A fig for the opinion of society," she cried. "The only
opinion you should consider is the opinion of the woman you
adore. I was an heiress myself; and when Teddy O'Donovan
proposed to me, upon my conscience I believe the sole piece of
property he possessed in the world was a corkscrew. So much
for her ducats!"

Peter laughed.

"Men, after coffee, are frequently in the habit of smoking,"
said she. "You have my sanction for a cigarette. It will keep
you in countenance."

"Thank you," said Peter, and lit his cigarette.

"And surely, it's a countenance you'll need, to be going on
like that about her money. However--if you can find a ray of
comfort in the information--small good will her future husband
get of it, even if he is a fortunehunter: for she gives the
bulk of it away in charity, and I 'm doubtful if she keeps two
thousand a year for her own spending."

"Really?" said Peter; and for a breathing-space it seemed to
him that there was a ray of comfort in the information.

"Yes, you may rate her at two thousand a year," said Mrs.