And the wall to next-door is so
thin they hear everything. When her baby cries--they rap. And people
stand against the railings and talk.... Can't we wait? You're doing so
well."
An extraordinary bitterness possessed me at this invasion of the
stupendous beautiful business of love by sordid necessity. I answered
her with immense restraint.
"If," I said, "we could have a double-fronted, detached house--at
Ealing, say--with a square patch of lawn in front and a garden
behind--and--and a tiled bathroom."
"That would be sixty pounds a year at least."
"Which means five hundred a year.... Yes, well, you see, I told my uncle
I wanted that, and I've got it."
"Got what?"
"Five hundred pounds a year."
"Five hundred pounds!"
I burst into laughter that had more than a taste of bitterness.
"Yes," I said, "really! and NOW what do you think?"
"Yes," she said, a little flushed; "but be sensible! Do you really mean
you've got a Rise, all at once, of two hundred a year?"
"To marry on--yes."
She scrutinised me a moment. "You've done this as a surprise!" she said,
and laughed at my laughter.
Pages:
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290