not much matter
now in what sequence the words were said. The offer had been thoroughly
completed and was thoroughly understood.

"A lady, Mr. Prosper, has to think of these things," said Miss
Thoroughbung.

"Of course I would not wish to hurry you prematurely to any declaration
of your affections."

"But there are other considerations, Mr. Prosper. You know about my
property?"

"Nothing particularly. It has not been a matter of consideration with
me." This he said with some slight air of offence. He was a gentleman,
whereas Miss Thoroughbung was hardly a lady. Matter of consideration her
money of course had been. How should he not consider it? But he was
aware that he ought not to rush on that subject, but should leave it to
the arrangement of lawyers, expressing his own views through her own
lawyer. To her it was the thing of most importance, and she had no
feelings which induced her to be silent on a matter so near to her. She
rushed.

"But it has to be considered, Mr. Prosper. It is all my own, and comes
to very nearly one thousand a year. I think it is nine hundred and
seventy-two pounds six shillings and eightpence. Of course, when there
is so much money it would have to be tied up somehow." Mr. Prosper was
undoubtedly disgusted, and if he could have receded at this moment would
have transferred his affections to Miss Puffle. "Of course you
understand that."

She had not accepted him as yet, nor said a word of her regard for him.
All that went, it seemed, as a matter of no importance whatever. He had
been standing for the last few minutes, and now he remained standing and
looking at her. They were both silent, so that he was obliged to speak.
"I understand that between a lady and gentleman so circumstanced there
should be a settlement."

"Just so."

"I also have some property," said Mr. Prosper, with a touch of pride in
his tone.

"Of course you have. Goodness gracious me! Why else would you come? You
have got Buston, which I suppose is two thousand a year. At any rate it
has that name. But it isn't your own."

"Not my own?"

"Well, no. You couldn't leave it to your widow, so that she might give
it to any one she pleased when you were gone." Here the gentleman
frowned very darkly, and thought that after all Miss Puffle would be the
woman for him. "All that has to be considered, and it makes Buston not
exactly your own. If I were to have a daughter she wouldn't have it."

"No, not a daughter," sa