"Good heavens," I said, "you've done it now! Think what will happen
if you run up against a girls' school! What on earth made you wish
that?"
An obstinate look came into Bruce's face.
"It's Cynthia," he said. "Cynthia West, you know. I want to marry
her, and she won't give up the stage."
"Well, you needn't have indulged in quite such a sweeping demand," I
protested.
Bruce looked a little ashamed.
"I thought I'd be on the safe side," he explained. "You see, I might
get tired of Cynthia one day, and then it would save wasting a second
wish."
"Well, I'm blessed!" I said. "For a lover I think you're about the
most cold-blooded cynic I ever struck. What are you going to wish
next?"
"I must have some money," Bruce said thoughtfully.
"You must," I agreed, "plenty! Eight hundred a year won't go far
with Cynthia, to say nothing of the others."
"What about a billion in Consols?" suggested Bruce.