"Well, tell me about Henry Woodruff. How did that match turn out?"

"Bad enough thus far. He is the same delightful, good-hearted fellow as
of old; always ready to do a kind, or courteous act. But this woman will
be the ruin of him."

"How? What is the trouble?"

"The trouble is she is spoiled to death! She fancies herself an invalid,
lies around, does nothing but read Charlotte Braeme and Bertha M.
Clay--has every foolish whim gratified, and, in fact, I don't see how he
stands it."

"Did she have any property?"

"Not a cent. It was an out-and-out love match. She has expensive tastes;
she is indolent and extravagant. Why, his carriage hire is a big item of
itself. She couldn't walk a block, you know."

"Perhaps she really is a sufferer."

"Nonsense; nobody believes it. She had that fall, you recollect at the
skating rink. At first her spine was thought to be seriously injured.
Woodruff paid out several hundred dollars to have her cured, and the
doctors discharged her, well, they said. But it has pleased her to drag
around, a load on his hands, ever since. It is thought that he is much
crippled financially. I know positively that he has lately mortgaged his
interest in the firm. If he can't manage to make, or save five thousand
dollars by the end of this year, it is all up with him. And he will