A grunt of assent. "For the children."
"And where's the next to come from?"
This question had no answer.
"We can't starve," she said, looking at him. "There isn't another crumb nor another penny in the house. Where's the next loaf to come from?"
Stevens was silent.
"You'll have to get something, somehow! We can't go on like this," she continued, speaking quietly thus far. Then she burst out as if choked, "But if you'd been getting your wages all this time we'd never have got to such a pass! As if it mattered that you'd have had to work a bit longer than you liked! What business has a man got to marry, if he don't mean to work? Why, dear me, a lot more work wouldn't have pulled you down yourself, like the want of food! . . . And there's the children! . . . And if you do get what you're trying for, it won't pay for these weeks. It won't give us back half, nor a quarter, of what we've lost. I wish you men had some common-sense, I do, if it's only for the sake of your wives and children."
"You needn't scold," said Roger.
"I don't want to scold! It isn't scolding! I'm only telling you the plain truth. If you'd look the matter in the face for once, you'd maybe see how things are before it's too late."
"Too late for what?" asked Stevens.
Martha did not speak. Her eyes went first to his, then travelled round the room, passed over the older children; and rested on Harry. Roger followed her glance.