Tripped


The shaded lights, music in the distance, sweet perfumes from the costly

flowers about them--everything was just right for a proposal, and

Timkins decided to chance his luck. She was pretty, which was good, and

also, he believed, an heiress, which was better.



"Are you not afraid that someone will marry you for your money?" he

asked gently.



"Oh! dear, no," smiled the girl. "Such an idea never
entered my head!"



"Ah! Miss Liscombe," he sighed, "in your sweet innocence you do not

dream how coldly, cruelly mercenary some men are!"



"Perhaps I don't," replied the girl calmly.



"I would not for a moment have such a terrible fate befall you," he said

passionately. "You are too good--too beautiful. The man who wins you

should love you for yourself alone."



"He'll have to," the girl remarked. "It's my cousin Jennie who has the

money--not I. You seem to have got us mixed. I haven't a penny myself."



"Oh--er!" stammered the young man, "what pleasant weather we are having,

aren't we?"



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