"Sir!" exclaimed Winifred, rising. She had money of her own—much more than I have—and there was no need to squabble about that. But I shan’t try to stop you. go. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. “You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. ‘I don’t want him having an apoplexy in this house.
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