perty for sixty thousand pounds--sixty
thousand. That's over two thousand a year for me, and he makes a
company out of it with a hundred and fifty thousand capital. He says
that, taking ten thousand out of it for expenses, there will be
a profit of eighty thousand. And all that he gives to you--eighty
thousand, that's three thousand a year for you; and sixty thousand,
that's two more, my dearest Rosie. You remember what you said, that
when you married you should step out of one room like this into
another just as good?'

'Oh, Reggie,' she sank upon his bosom--'you know I never could love
anybody but you. It's true I was engaged to old Lord Evergreen, but
that was only because he had one foot--you know--and when the other
foot went in too, just a day too soon, I actually laughed. So the
pater is going to make a company of it, is he? Well, I hope he won't
put any of his own money into it, I'm sure, because of late all the
companies have turned out so badly.'

'But, my child, the place is full of gold.'

'Then why did he turn it into a company, my dear boy? And why didn't
he make you stick to it? But you know nothing of the City. Now, let us
sit down and talk about what we shall do--don't, you ridiculous boy!'

Act V

Another house just like the first. The bride stepped out of one palace
into another. With their five or six thousand a year, the young couple
could just manage to make both ends meet. The husband was devoted;
the wife had everything that she could wish. Who could be happier than
this pair in a nest so luxurious, their life so padded, their days so
full of sunshine?

It was a year after marriage. The wife, contrary to her usual
custom, was the first at breakfast. A few letters were waiting for
her--chiefly invitations. She opened and read them. Among them lay one
addressed to her husband. Not looking at the address, she opened and
read that as well:

Dear Reginald:

I venture to address you as an old friend of your own and
school-fellow of your mother's. I am a widow with four
children. My husband was the vicar of your old parish--you
remember him and me. I was left with a little income of about
two hundred a year. Twelve months ago I was persuaded in order
to double my income--a thing which seemed certain from the
prospectus--to invest everything in a new and rich gold
mine. Everything. And the mine has never paid anything. The
company--it is called the