seven hundred a year, because we shall require you to set us up with furniture, say five hundred pounds' worth of it. You can't expect us to start housekeeping without any sticks, can you? Yes—seven hundred a year, and five hundred in furniture's my minimum. Chloë and I can rub along all right enough on a thousand between us, but not a penny less. I want to marry Chloë, and she wants to marry me; but were not such a pair of mutts as to expect to be happy together if we have to be poor. Our generation looks facts in the face, my dear sir. We don't blink 'em and trust to luck, as lovers did in good Queen Victoria's day. We like to see just what we're in for, and unless Chloë and I can see that we're in for a thousand a year, there's nothing doing absolutely. So throw up your hands and take your
