"There's one thing--we can't move into a cheaper house."

"No," Mr. Prohack concurred. "Because there isn't one."

Years earlier Mr. Prohack had bought the long lease of his house from
the old man who, according to the logical London system, had built the
house upon somebody else's land on the condition that he paid rent for
the land and in addition gave the house to the somebody else at the end
of a certain period as a free gift. By a payment of twelve pounds per
annum Mr. Prohack was safe for forty years yet and he calculated that in
forty years the ownership of the house would be a matter of some
indifference both to him and to his wife.

"Well, as you're so desperately wise, perhaps you'll kindly tell me what
we _are_ to do."

"I might borrow money on my insurance policy--and speculate," said Mr.
Prohack gravely.

"Oh! Arthur! Do you really think you--" Marian showed a wild gleam of
hope.

"Or I might throw the money into the Serpentine," Mr. Prohack added.

"Oh! Arthur! I could kill you. I never know how to take you."

"No, you never do. That's the worst of a woman like you marrying a man
like me."