'Four pounds a week! Splendid! I could afford to keep an aspidistra on that, couldn't I?'
'No, Gordon, don't joke about it now.'
'I'm not joking. I'm serious.'
'You mean you won't go back to them—not even if they offered you a job?'
'Not in a thousand years. Not if they paid me fifty pounds a week.'
'But why? Why?'
'I've told you why,' he said wearily.
She looked at him helplessly. After all, it was no use. There was this money–business standing in the way—these meaningless scruples which she had never understood but which she had accepted merely because they were his. She felt all the impotence, the resentment of a woman who sees an abstract idea triumphing over common sense. How maddening it was, that he should let himself be pushed into the gutter by a thing like that! S
