“It suits me for the moment,” George returned, startled by this unexpected reproach; and feeling he ought to offer a better explanation, added, “It gives me a lot of free time to make plans.”
“There’s no money in it, is there?” Cora went on.
“Well, your brother made nine pounds this week,” George said, munching with enjoyment.
“As much as that?” There was a sharp note in her voice.
George studied her. The blue smudges under her eyes, her whitish-grey complexion, her thin, scarlet mouth fascinated him
“Oh yes. It isn’t bad, is it?”
She sipped her beer.
“He never tells me anything,” she said in a cold, tight voice. “We haven’t had any money for ages. I don’t know how we live. Nine pounds! And he’s gone off for the evening.” Her hand closed into a small, cruel fist.
“Of course, he mayn’t be so lucky next week,” George went on hurriedly, alarmed that he might have said something wrong. “You can never tell. There’s a lot of luck in the game, you know.”
“I could kill him!” she said viciously. “Look at me! I’ve been in this stinking outfit for months. That’s all I’ve got!”