"I'll have to curtail that!" he exclaimed.

In the ensuing silence both man and wife thought along the same track.
It suddenly gave him a nasty jar, to hit up against the necessity of
stopping those pleasant little spendings, those odd drinks, those
superior smokes, the last word in colourings for shirts and ties. Of
course, such stoppage was well worth while. Oh, immensely so!

And she had a lump in her throat. She thought: "He'll find all this a
burden. He's had all he wants; and so've I. I wish we were rich."

"Look here, darling," said Osborn. "How much'll food cost us? I don't
know a great deal about these things, but if it's any standard to
take--well, my old landlady used to give me rooms and breakfasts and
dinners for thirty bob a week. Jolly good breakfasts and dinners they
were, too!"

Marie murmured very slowly: "I'm not your old landlady." She imaged
her, a working drab, saving, pinching, and making the best of all
things. Compare Marie with Osborn's old landlady! "Besides," she
murmured on, "there's me, too, now."

Osborn nodded. "Well," he said, "how much do you think?"

"Thirty shillings for _both_ of us per week," said Marie,
inclined to cry. "That's better than your old landlady."

Osborn hastened to soothe her. "Look here," he protested, "don't fuss
over it, there's a love. Very well, I'll give you thirty bob a week,