“They’d better have ours,” said Titus. “If we cut out the car——”
“Don’t be a fool,” said Blanche. “We must have a car and we must have a decent address. We must be served, and I must be well turned out. If——”
“Exactly,” said Titus. “Now let’s translate that saying. What you really mean is, ‘We must have a Rolls, and I won’t live West of Park Lane. We must have at least five servants, and I’ve got to dress accordin’ an’ a big bit over.’ Well, that’s all glorious, but the brutal answer’s this. Someone once said in his thirst that to get a quart into a pint pot was beyond the power of miserable man. Well, the converse is equally melancholy and equally true. The man who can get a quart out of a pint pot has never been foaled—or if he has, my dear, his name’s not Titus. And there we are. We’ve three thousand pounds a year—to spend. If you can divide it by ten an’ get six hundred for answer, I’ll climb up the nearest steeple an’ push myself off.” He flung himself into a chair and put his head in his hands. “I’m not certain that wouldn’t be the best move, any way. Then at least you wouldn’t——”
“Ti, Ti, how can you talk like that?” Blanche was down on her knees with her arms round her husband’s neck. “I’m a selfish sweep, Ti, and you’re an angel.”
“Rot!” said her husband, taking her in his arms.
“I am, I am. It’s the truth. You give, and I take—all the time. I take and take and take. What fun do you have? None. Every penny you can spare—more goes on my back. And then when we’re up against it I kick and scream. Ti, I’m ashamed of myself.”
“I can’t bear it,” said Titus brokenly. “Why shouldn’t you have a show?”
“I do—I have. You give me a wonderful show. Everything I’ve wanted I’ve always had. There isn’t a husband like you in all the world. You’ve given up thing after thing—you know you have. You never hunt now, you wear the same old suits, you’ve chucked the Bath and the Bachelors’——”
“Never went inside ’em,” muttered Titus. “What was the good of——”
“You gave them up to save money—for me to blow. And I—I let you do it. I traded upon your love. I let you go hungry whilst I was bolting your share. And then . . .” Blanche covered her face and burst into tears. “I’m a rotten thief,” she sobbed, “a rotten, selfish——”