“Nothing; she did it all. I hadn’t the least wish to cut her. In fact, I wanted to stay in Eaton Place, until the flat came along, and when it did, I wished to give her a slice of my luck, and I asked her to lunch. She said ‘No,’ but sighed. The sigh was not about lunch but about the flat. She would have liked it. By Jove, Dora, you’re nicely housed here. It’s a neat little box, as Mr. O. would say.”
Dora gave a short laugh, not very merry in tone.
“Ah, that’s one of the things we mustn’t say,” she observed. “I’ve been catching it from Claude. He says he’s respectful to my family, but I’m not respectful to his.”
Jim paused with his cup in his hand.
“Been having a row?” he asked. “Make it up at once. Say you were wrong.”
“But I wasn’t,” said she.
“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you should let the purseholders have everything all their own way. Then everything slips along easily and comfortably.”
“Oh, money!” she said. “Who cares about the money?”
Jim opened his eyes very wide.
“I do very much,” he said, “and so did you up till a year ago. It is silly to say that money doesn’t matter just because you have a lot. It’s only the presence of a lot that enables you to say so.”