a nice mind to ignore the piles of money that keep their
feet above the waves. I stand each year upon six hundred
pounds, and Helen upon the same, and Tibby will stand upon
eight, and as fast as our pounds crumble away into the sea
they are renewed--from the sea, yes, from the sea. And all
our thoughts are the thoughts of six-hundred-pounders, and
all our speeches; and because we don't want to steal
umbrellas ourselves, we forget that below the sea people do
want to steal them, and do steal them sometimes, and that
what's a joke up here is down there reality--"

"There they go--there goes Fraulein Mosebach. Really,
for a German she does dress charmingly. Oh--!"

"What is it?"

"Helen was looking up at the Wilcoxes' flat."

"Why shouldn't she?"

"I beg your pardon, I interrupted you. What was it you
were saying about reality?"

"I had worked round to myself, as usual," answered
Margaret in tones that were suddenly preoccupied.

"Do tell me this, at all events. Are you for the rich
or for the poor?"

"Too difficult. Ask me another. Am I for poverty or