a few hundreds a year. If she had been a different girl he might have asked her to wait,—might have talked to her of the coming of better days, of his prospective promotion, of its being wiser, perhaps, that he should leave the navy and look about for a more lucrative career. With Georgina it was difficult to go into such questions; she had no taste whatever for detail. She was delightful as a woman to love, because when a young man is in love he discovers that; but she could not be called helpful, for she never suggested anything. That is, she never had done so till the day she really proposed—for that was the form it took—to become his wife with out more delay. "Oh, yes, I will marry you;" these words, which I quoted a little way back, were not so much the answer to something he had said at the moment, as the light conclusion of a report she had just made, for the first time, of her actual situation in her father's house.
"I am afraid I shall have to see less of you," she had begun by saying. "They watch me so much."
"It is very little already," he answered. "What is once or twice a week?"
"That's easy for you to say. You are your own master, but you don't know what I go through."
"Do they make it very bad for you, dearest? Do they make scenes?" Benyon asked.
"No, of course not. Don't you know us enough to know how we behave? No scenes,—that would be a relief. However, I never make them myself,
