eymoon ought to be
reduced to two days. Still, she agreed to the proposal with joy. (For
her life was going to be one long honeymoon.) When they returned from
the brief honeymoon, William Henry took eight shillings from her, out of
the money he had given her, and hurried off to pay it into the Going
Away Club, and there was scarcity for a few days. This happened in
March. She had then only a vague idea of what the Going Away Club was.
But from William Henry's air, and his fear lest he might be late, she
gathered that the Going Away Club must be a very important institution.
Brachett, for a living, painted blue Japanese roses on vases at Gimson &
Nephews' works. He was nearly thirty years of age, and he had never done
anything else but paint blue Japanese roses on vases. When the demand
for blue Japanese roses on vases was keen, he could earn what is called
"good money"--that is to say, quite fifty shillings a week. But the
demand for blue Japanese roses on vases was subject to the caprices of
markets--especially Colonial markets--and then William Henry had
undesired days of leisure, and brought home less than fifty shillings,
sometimes considerably less. Still, the household over which Annie
presided was a superiorly respectable household and William Henry's
income was, week in, week out, one of the princeliest in the street; and
certainly Annie's window-curtains, and her gilt-edged Bible and
artificial flowers displayed on a small table between the
window-curtains was not to be surpassed. Further, William was "steady,"
and not quite raving mad about football matches; nor did he bet on
horses, dogs or pigeons.

Nevertheless Annie--although, mind you, extraordinarily happy--found
that her new existence, besides being monotonous, was somewhat hard,
narrow and lacking in spectacular delights. Whenever there was any
suggestion of spending more money than usual, William Henry's fierce
chin would stick out in a formidable way, and his voice would become
harsh, and in the result more money than usual was not spent. His
notion of an excursion, of a wild and costly escapade, was a walk in
Hanbridge Municipal Park and two shandy-gaffs at the Corporation
Refreshment House therein. Now, although the Hanbridge Park is a
wonderful triumph of grass-seed and terra-cotta over cinder-heaps and
shard-rucks, although it is a famous exemplar to other boroughs, it is
not precisely the Vale of Llangollen, nor the Lake District. It is the
lea