"What did you expect ?" "You know," say I, still hesitatingly, "I have not an idea _how_ well off you are; I mean, how much a year you have.

Mercenary as I am"-- (laughing nervously)--"I never thought of asking you; but I suppose, even if the earth were to open and swallow Antigua--even if there were no such things as West Indies--we should still have money enough to buy us bread and cheese, should not we ?" "Well, it is to be hoped so," he answers, a gleam of amusement flashing like a little sunshiny arrow across his vexation; "it would be a bad lookout for you and me, would not it, considering the size of our appetites, if we should not ?" A little pause.

Tou Tou's voice again.

The anguish has conquered the laughter, and is now mixed with a shrill treble wrath.

Polly is alternately barking like Vick, and laughing with a quiet amusement at his own performance.
"Do you think," say I, still airing my opinion with timidity, as one that has no great opinion of their worth, "that it does one much good to be rich beyond a certain point ?--that a large establishment, for instance, gives one much pleasure?
I am sure it does not in _our_ case; if you were to know the number of nails that the servants and their iniquities have knocked into mother's coffin--yes, and father's, too." "Have they ?" (a little absently).