She laughed.
'We're not a bit too hard up to have a very pleasant time, if only you weren't so—,' then she stopped.
'Go on; say it!' he exclaimed. 'You want to make out I'm extravagant, that's it! I have large ideas, I own it; it's difficult for me to be petty about trifles.'
'But, Bruce, I wasn't complaining at all of your large ideas. You hardly ever give me a farthing, and expect me to do marvels on next to nothing. Of course, I know you're not petty about some things.' She stopped again.
'All right then; I'll give up smoking and golfing, and all the little things that make life tolerable to a hard-working man.'
'Not at all, dear. Of course not. There's really only one luxury—if you won't think me unkind—that I think, perhaps, you might try to have less of.'
'What is that?'
'Well, dear, couldn't you manage not to be ill quite so often? You see, almost whenever you're bored you have a consultation. The doctors always say you're quite all right; but it does rather—well, run up, and you can't get much fun out of it. Now, don't be angry with me.'
'But, good God, Edith! If I didn't take it in time, you might be left a young widow, alone in the world, with Archie. Penny-wise and pound-foolish to neglect the health of the breadwinner! Do you reproach me because the doctor said I wasn't dangerously ill at the time?'
'Of course not; I'm only too thankful.'