"Of course it is," he agreed sharply. "An estate yielding two thousand pounds interest. You would not suggest my letting it go, I should hope!"
"Certainly not, if you cannot afford it."
"If it were a twentieth part of the sum, I'd not be jockeyed out of it." He laughed harshly. "As men go, I am well-to-do: but, dear, has it never occurred to you to wonder what this place and its household cost me?"
She answered with a small wry smile. "Often it has occurred to me. Often I tell myself that I am wicked to accept, as you are foolish perhaps to give, all this luxury."
"You adorn it. . . . Dear, do not misunderstand me. All the offering
I can bring is too little for my love."
"I know," she murmured, looking up at him with moist eyes. "I know; and yet—"
"I meant only that you are not used to handling money or calculating it—as why should you be?"
"If my lord will only try me!"
"Hey?"
"Of what use is a wife if she may not contrive for her husband's good—take thought for his household? Ah, my dear, these cares are half a woman's happiness! . . . I might make mistakes. Nay, 'tis certain. I would the house were smaller: in a sense I would that your wealth were smaller—it would frighten me less. But something tells me that, though frightened, I should not fail you."