"Why not? What's mine is yours."
They walked on in silence for a minute or two. Then Ronnie said:
"I'm afraid I can't quite see things that way, Alie. I suppose I'm a bit old-fashioned in my ideas. But it does seem to me that the man's responsible----" He bit off the sentence.
"I hate you to talk like that." There was a little of the old temper in Aliette's voice. "We must be sensible about money."
"Oh, don't let's bother this afternoon," he coaxed.
"But we must bother. Ronnie, be frank with me. What are we living on?"
"Oh, all sorts of things. The Jermyn Street rent; my earnings, such as they are; a bit of money I'd got saved up."
"And," she added, "the allowance your mother makes you. I wonder if we ought to take that."
"I don't see why we shouldn't. She always has made me an allowance. But of course I shouldn't like to ask her for more."
"Naturally." Aliette's brow creased. "Let's think. I've got about three hundred and fifty a year of my own. Your allowance is four. That makes seven hundred and fifty. How much is that a week?"