that."

"I must say you're a downright young woman," he observed, patting her
arm and laughing a little. "What a question to spring on a fellow!"

"Don't you know your income? Or don't you want to tell it me?"

"I--"

"That's all right"--now she patted him--"don't tell me. I don't want to
know. I can do the sum just as well by proportion. Divide your income
into ten parts. How many parts would you give to Evie, how many to
Charles, how many to Paul?"

"The fact is, my dear, I hadn't any intention of bothering you with
details. I only wanted to let you know that--well, that something must
be done for the others, and you've understood me perfectly, so let's
pass on to the next point."

"Yes, we've settled that," said Margaret, undisturbed by his strategic
blunderings. "Go ahead; give away all you can, bearing in mind that I've
a clear six hundred. What a mercy it is to have all this money about
one."

"We've none too much, I assure you; you're marrying a poor man."

"Helen wouldn't agree with me here," she continued. "Helen daren't slang
the rich, being rich herself, but she would like to. There's an odd
notion, that I haven't yet got hold of, running about at the back of her
brain, that poverty is somehow 'real.' She dislikes all organisation,
and probably confuses wealth with the technique of wealth. Sovereigns in
a stocking wouldn't bother her; cheques do. Helen is too relentless. One
can't deal in her high-handed manner with the world."

"There's this other point, and then I must go back to my hotel and write
some letters. What's to be done now about the house in Ducie Street?"

"Keep it on--at least, it depends. When do you want to marry me?"

She raised her voice, as too often, and some youths, who were also
taking the evening air, overheard her. "Getting a bit hot, eh?" said
one. Mr. Wilcox turned on them, and said sharply, "I say!" There was
silence. "Take care I don't report you to the police." They moved away
quietly enough, but were only biding their time, and the rest of the
conversation was punctuated by peals of ungovernable laughter.

Lowering his voice and infusing a hint of reproof into it, he said:
"Evie will probably be married in September. We could scarcely think of
anything before then."

"The earlier the nicer, Henry. Females are not supposed to say such
things, but the earlier the nicer."

"How about September for us too?" he asked, rather dryly.

"Right. Shall we go into Ducie St