"I am not offended, you poor boy.... I hadn't realised that you were so much in love with her--so deeply concerned----" "I have always been.... She knows it...." He cleared his eyes and turned a dazed gaze on the sunny street once more. "If I could--" he stopped; a hopeless look came into his eyes. Then he slowly shook his head. "Oh, Ricky! Ricky! Can't you do something? Can't you make a lot of money very quickly? You see Strelsa has simply got to marry money. Be fair; be just to her. A girl can't exist without money, can she? You know that, don't you?" "I've heard your world say so." "You know it's true!" "I don't know what is true. I don't know truth from falsehood. I suppose that love requires money to keep it nourished--as roses require manure----" "Ricky!" "I'm speaking of _your_ world----" "My world! The entire world knows that money is necessary--except perhaps a silly sentimentalist here and there----" "Yes, there are one or two--here and there," he said. "But they're all poor--and prejudiced." Molly applied her handkerchief to her eyes, viciously. "I hope _you_ are not one, Ricky. I'm sure I'm not fool enough to expect a girl who has been accustomed to everything to be contented without anything." "There's her husband as an asset." "Oh, my dear, don't talk slush!" "--And--children--perhaps." "And no money to educate them! You dear boy, there is nothing to do--absolutely nothing--unless it's based on money. You know it; I know it. People without it are intolerable--a nuisance to everybody and to themselves. What could Strelsa find in life without the means to enjoy it?" "Nothing--perhaps.... But I believe I'll ask her." "She'll tell you the truth, Ricky. She's an unusually truthful woman.... I must go downtown. Strelsa and I are lunching"--she reddened--"with Langly.... His aunt would kill me if she heard of it.... I positively do not dare ask Langly to Witch-Hollow because I'm so deadly afraid of that fat old woman!... Besides, I don't want him there--although--if Strelsa _has_ to marry him----" She fell silent and thoughtful, reflecting, perhaps, that if Strelsa was going to take Langly Sprowl, her own country house might as well have the benefit of any fashionable and social glamour incident to the announcement. Then, glancing at Quarren, her heart smote her, and she flushed: "Come up to Witch-Hollow, Ricky dear, and get her to elope with you if you can! Will you?" "I'll come to Witch-Hollow if you ask me." "That's ducky of you. You _are_ a good sport, Ricky--and always were! Go on and marry her if you can. Other women have stood it.... And, I know it's vulgar and low and catty of me--but I'd love to see Mrs. Sprowl blow up--and see that hatchet-faced Langly disappointed--yes, I would, and I don't care what you think! Their ancestors were common people, and Heaven knows why a Wycherly of Wycherly should be afraid of the descendants of Dutch rum smugglers!" Quarren looked up with a weary smile.