“What?”
“How much have you a year? I’ve six hundred.”
“My income?”
“Yes. We must begin with how much you have, before we can settle how much you can give Charles. Justice, and even generosity, depend on that.”
“I must say you’re a downright young woman,” he observed, patting her arm and laughing a little. “What a question to spring on a fellow!”
“Don’t you know your income? Or don’t you want to tell it me?”
“I—”
“That’s all right”—now she patted him—“don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I can do the sum just as well by proportion. Divide your income into ten parts. How many parts would you give to Evie, how many to Charles, how many to Paul?”
“The fact is, my dear, I hadn’t any intention of bothering you with details. I only wanted to let you know that—well, that something must be done for the others, and you’ve understood me perfectly, so let’s pass on to the next point.”
“Yes, we’ve settled that,” said Margaret, undisturbed by his strategic blunderings. “Go ahead; give away all you can, bearing in mind I’ve a clear six hundred. What a mercy it is to have all this money about one!”