She sat back in her chair, uneasy, troubled: vague, unwholesome, sordid shadows seemed to gather about her.
"Ever gone in for sea-fishing?" Perigal asked, after some minutes of silence.
"No."
"I'm awfully keen. I'm on it all day when the wind isn't east."
This enthusiasm for sea-fishing struck a further chill to Mavis's forlorn heart. She could not help thinking that, if he had been moved by a loving concern for her welfare, he would have devoted his days to the making of a competence on which they could live.
"Now about this trouble," said Perigal, at which Mavis listened with all her ears. He went on: "I know, of course, the proper thing, the right thing to do is to marry you at once." Here he paused.
Mavis waited in suspense for him to go on; it seemed an epoch of time till he added:
"But what are we going to live upon?"
She kept on repeating his words to herself. She felt as if she were drowning in utter darkness.
"I can tell you at once that there's precious little money in bricks. I'm fighting against big odds, and if I were worrying about you—if you had enough to live upon and all that—I couldn't give proper attention to business."