"On the contrary."
"You earn ten shillings a week."
"Well?"
"And here is exactly—twopence left—oh, Peter!"
"You are forgetting the tea and the beef, and—and the other luxuries," said I, struck by the droop of her mouth.
"But you work so very, very hard, and earn so little and that little—"
"I work that I may live, Charmian, and lo! I am alive."
"And dreadfully poor!"
"And ridiculously happy."
"I wonder why?" said she, beginning to draw designs on the page before her.