"Then we must live on what I have left, and you know what taxes are. I suppose I had better look for a job."
"What?" He seemed to spring out of his apathy, and stared at her incredulously. "You?"
"Yes. We must have more money. I could sell the flats and go into the decorating business."
"And advertise to all San Francisco that I am a failure! Do you think I could fool them then!"
"Are you sure you have fooled them now! They must know you would have stuck to the old business if it had paid."
"It isn't the first time a man has changed his business. But if you go out to earn money—why, I'd be a laughing stock."
"Then we shall have to give up the house. The city has long wanted this lot—"
"That would never do, either. Everybody knows how devoted you are to your old home … and after fixing it up…."
"Well, what, do you suggest? You know perfectly well we can't go on."
"My brain seems to have stopped. I can't do much thinking. But … well … you might sell the flats and we could go on as before until my business begins to pay."