38
THE AUTHOR OF "TRIXIE"
"Chloë," said Dunkle.
The Archdeacon gasped. "My daughter?" he cried.
"Even so," Dunkle assured him. "Your fifth daughter, to whom I have been engaged for the last three weeks. If you will consent to our marriage"
The Archdeacon snorted. "My dear fellow," he said, "please talk sense. How do you propose to keep a wife? What is your income?"
"Three hundred a year," said Dunkle, "as near as makes no matter. By my poetry, though, I earn, most years, an extra seven or eight pounds."
The Archdeacon threw himself back in his chair. "And do you suppose," he enquired, "that Chloë is the girl to set up house with you on three hundred and seven or eight pounds a year?"
"No," said Dunkle. "We shall require
