"That's what I'm askin' you," said Jim, evasively; and continued hurriedly, lest she should insist upon a disagreeable explanation, "'Sides, there's my father to be considered."
"Since when have you taken him to your heart?"
"Oh, it's all very well talkin'. But your father's your father, when all's said an' done. The Duke doesn't think me a saint, but he'd be sorry to see me die."
"No one wants you to die," she said impatiently.
"That's bunkum, an'--an'--what's the word?"
"Might I suggest 'sophistry'?" said Lady Jim, quite aware that her reasoning was fallacious.
"Oh, you'll suggest anythin' to get your own way. But what I mean is that, though I do die, I don't really die."
"How clearly you put things, Jim. Please yourself. We must go back to town with this money, to be whitewashed;" and eyeing the cheque contemptuously, she saw that it was unfortunately made payable to Jim. Her husband stretched for the cheque and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.
"I'm goin' to see the Duke m'self," he announced, "an' tell him everythin'."
"What, about the money we've raised on the income?"