“I will take the first work that offers, to-morrow.”
“Do so by all means—but for your own sake, not for mine.”
“I see; you think I am an idler!” Morris exclaimed, a little too much in the tone of a man who has made a discovery. But he saw his error immediately, and blushed.
“It doesn’t matter what I think, when once I have told you I don’t think of you as a son-in-law.”
But Morris persisted. “You think I would squander her money.”
The Doctor smiled. “It doesn’t matter, as I say; but I plead guilty to that.”
“That’s because I spent my own, I suppose,” said Morris. “I frankly confess that. I have been wild. I have been foolish. I will tell you every crazy thing I ever did, if you like. There were some great follies among the number—I have never concealed that. But I have sown my wild oats. Isn’t there some proverb about a reformed rake? I was not a rake, but I assure you I have reformed. It is better to have amused oneself for a while and have done with it. Your daughter would never care for a milksop; and I will take the liberty of saying that you would like one quite as little. Besides, between my money and hers there is a great difference. I spent my own; it was because it was my own that I spent it. And I made no debts; when it was gone I stopped. I don’t owe a penny in the world.”
“Allow me to inquire what you are living on now—though I admit,” the Doctor added, “that the question, on my part, is inconsistent.”
“I am living on the remnants of my property,” said Morris Townsend.
“Thank you!” the Doctor gravely replied.