'Of course we have! We never let a bill run,' said Felix, slightly indignant.
'Now mind, I'm not insulting you, Felix, but I know what the women are and what they tell us. Are you sure of that? No debts—honour bright?'
'None at all!' said Felix, with an endeavour at calmness, but glowing hotly. 'I help my sister make up her books every Saturday night. We always pay ready money.'
'Humph,' said Mr. Underwood, still only half convinced. 'Living must be cheap at Bexley.'
'You had better explain a little, Felix,' said Mr. Audley.
Felix did bring himself to say, 'I am sub-editor now, and get £100 a year, besides being paid for any article I write. Wilmet has £25 a year and her dinner, and Angela's at school, so there are only five of us constantly dining at home, and with Mr. Audley's two guineas a week we can do very well.'
'What, you lodge here?'
'Did not you know that?' said Felix, surprised.
Mr. Underwood gave a whistle, and the Curate felt his cheeks growing redder and redder, as he perceived that seven-and-twenty was not considered as so very much older than eighteen. Edgar understood and smiled, but Felix only thought he was suspected of making a good thing of his lodger, and was beginning something awkward about, 'It is all kindness,' when Mr. Audley broke in—
'Of course nothing is settled yet, but—but I believe I shall change my quarters. A smaller house would be better for them; but I think the children should keep together. Indeed, my dear friend said he chiefly appointed me that Felix might be kept at their head.'