CONCERNING, AMONG OTHER MATTERS, THE PRICE OF BEEF, AND THE LADY SOPHIA SEFTON OF CAMBOURNE
Charmian sighed, bit the end of her pen, and sighed again. She was deep in her housekeeping accounts, adding and subtracting and, between whiles, regarding the result with a rueful frown.
Her sleeves were rolled up over her round, white arms, and I inwardly wondered if the much vaunted Phryne's were ever more perfect in their modelling, or of a fairer texture. Had I possessed the genius of a Praxiteles I might have given to the world a masterpiece of beauty to replace his vanished Venus of Cnidus; but, as it happened, I was only a humble blacksmith, and she a fair woman who sighed, and nibbled her pen, and sighed again.
"What is it, Charmian?"
"Compound addition, Peter, and I hate figures. I detest, loathe, and abominate them—especially when they won't balance!"
"Then never mind them," said I.
"Never mind them, indeed—the idea, Sir! How can I help minding them when living costs so much and we so poor?"
"Are we?" said I.
"Why, of course we are."
"Yes—to be sure—I suppose we are," said I dreamily.