"The one ambition that every normal-minded man ought to have: I want a wife and babies and a home."
"Then you certainly need money," she laughed.
"Sure I do; but not too much—always remember that—not too much."
"What would you call 'too much'?"
"Enough to spoil the children and to make it unnecessary for me ever to write another line."
This time her laugh was mocking. "Just now you said you wanted enough so that you could write without thinking of money," she reminded him.
"Oh, there is a golden mean; it doesn't have to be all honey or all vinegar. A nice tidy little income that would provide at a pinch for the butcher and the baker and the other people. You know what I mean."
"Yes, I think I do; and my ambition is hardly more soaring than yours. As you remarked, it doesn't cost so frightfully much to travel and live abroad."
He looked at her dubiously. "You don't mean that you'd wish to travel all the time, do you?"
"Why not?"