“What do you mean?”
“Well, you asked me why I couldn’t go by train. I could get a season ticket, but I should lose it the first day. Then they fine you forty shillings, and make you buy another. And that would go on, and on, and on until I was bankrupt and a beggar. And we should have to go down the High Street together, singing hymns. And you never did have any voice, and——”
“Oh, that’ll do,” said Mabel, wearily.
“Look here,” he said, brightly, “I’ve brought you a present, Mabel. I think you will find these useful.”
He produced the postage stamps from his pocket.
“Just a few stamps,” he said.
“All right,” said Mabel, not taking them. “Stick them down anywhere.”
“They should be stuck down in the top right-hand corner,” he said; “but I leave it all entirely to you.”
He went out. She had not even thanked him.