presentment of her numerous investments, grow in endless, ceaseless procreation. Her boudoir was as bare and simple as a soldier's quarters. There were no more effeminacies of culture or religion about it than about herself. She had asked no other assistance from Providence than a neutral position as to her affairs, which she managed as her father had his army, without intermediation of saints or intermeddling of priests. And no one could deny that her affairs had paid her the compliment of prospering under the régime.
"No, my son, no!" she reiterated, varying the formula not in the slightest degree. "Believe me, I know better than you. The young lady will not suit at all. In the first place, she has nothing."
"But, my mother—"
"In marriage there must be something; money is tangible, money remains; money is something, in fact—"
"Love?" he said, in a low voice, for it was novel to him, and he had yet to learn not to be shy of it.
"Love! Love! That for love!" snapping
