Two thousand a year to start on and a baronetcy and eight thousand a year in the near future were not--but I hate talking about that kind of thing.

Why do you force me to it?
Nobody could know that my uncle, who was so anxious that I should marry you, would marry himself at his age, and have a son and heir.

It was not my fault, Honoria.
Perhaps you would not have married me if you could have foreseen it." "Very probably not," she answered calmly, "and it is not _my_ fault that I have not yet learned to live with peace of mind and comfort on seven hundred a year.

It was hard enough to exist on two thousand till your uncle died, and now----" "Well, and now, Honoria, if you will only have patience and put up with things for a while, you shall be rich enough; I will make money for you, as much money as you want.

I have many friends.