They married on war-bread and Government cheese and kisses
(unrationed). Seriously, though, _m'amie_, I believe they'd
scarcely anything beyond his two thousand pounds a year as Permanent
Irremovable Assistant Under-Secretary at the No-Use-Coming-Here
Office. Certainly an "official residence" and a staff of servants were
allowed 'em, but when poor Lallie asked to have a ball-room built, and
Algy said he simply _must_ have a billiard-room and smoke-room added,
one of those fearful red-flag creatures got up in the House just
as the money was going to be voted and made such an uproar that the
matter was dropped.

And then, having heaps of spare time at the No-Use-Coming-Here Office,
Algy began to write novels and found himself at once. You've read some
of them, of course? Life with a big L, my dear. Every kind of world
while you wait, the upper, the under, and the half. Lallie was
very glad of the money that came rolling in, but I believe she said
wistfully, "How does my gentle quiet Algy know so much about
this, that and the other?" And her gentle quiet Algy made answer:
"Intuition, dear; imagination; the novelist's temperament."

By-and-by, however, she began to hear of his being seen at the Umpty
Club and Gaston's, chatting with Pearl Preston (one of those people,
you know, Daphne, who're immensely talked about but never mentioned).
And then a "certain liveliness" set in at the official residence of
the Permanent Irremovable Assistant Under-Secretary.

"You silly little goosey!" said Algy; "don't you see that it's not as
a man who admires her but as a novelist who's studying her that I
talk to Pearl Preston? She's my next heroine. A heroine like that is a