At the door he paused. "Well, I'll go and write to her. I suppose you've got some money, my dear? I paid my last cent to the income-tax man the other day. I'm sure you needn't have declared all that money to them, Violet——"
"I only told them the truth, Ferdie."
It was an old quarrel, this about the declaration to the income-tax people, and one in which he was always beaten, so, with a shrug, he went downstairs.
After a moment he called, his musical voice hoarse with the effort: "Violet—I say, Violet, have my new shirts come?"
"I—I didn't know you had ordered any, dear——"
"Oh, didn't you? No, I may have forgotten to tell you. Well, I did. Thought I might as well get two dozen while I was about it. Things are going up so."
There was a little pause and then she said, "I hope you got them at that nice place in Oxford Street?"
He had begun to whistle, but now he stopped and snarled out, "No, I didn't then. I suppose it's my business where I order my own shirts? I got them at my usual shirt-makers in Jermyn Street."
Mrs. Walbridge went quietly back into her little study and sat down.