“I’ve had a rise.”
“That’s good. They must be pleased with you. How much?”
“Five shillings a week.”
“That’s very good. You shall have a shilling a week more for your pocket-money. I’m glad you’re doing so well. You can keep five shillings for yourself this month.”
“That isn’t all my news.”
“What else?”
“I want to keep it all.”
“Nonsense. You can’t do that.”
“I must. You see. I haven’t told you everything. You see . . . I shall want my money now. I’m—what I wanted to tell you is that—that . . .” He gave a little nervous giggle that exasperated his mother and set her tapping with her foot on the floor. “I’m—you see—I’m married.”
Her mouth dropped. Her hands waved weakly in the air. She got up and went and stood for a long time—it seemed a very long time—by the window. Without turning she said: