“Basil is having a bad year,” said Minna. “We’re horribly poor sometimes. Rents in London are so dear.”
“Even so,” said Francis, “it seems hardly wise to leave him for so long.”
“We have rows.” Minna seemed to be quite cheerful about it. “Poor people always do have rows. They get so afraid, that they can’t enjoy anything else.”
“I was beginning to think that something serious might have happened.”
“Oh, no. I’m still Basil’s ‘darling wife’ when he writes to me, and he is my ‘devoted husband.’”
“Marriage,” said Francis, “is very difficult.”
“Of course it is, to anybody who isn’t an angel like you. . . . I’ll go back and try again.”
Francis sucked at his pipe thoughtfully.
“I oughtn’t to tell you this,” he said, “but Annette ran away once.”