It was very unkind of him not to have told her of all this money. After all, she helped to earn it! But she knew he believed her to be extravagant.
What sillies men were! As if the fact that he had this money put away, no doubt accumulating in order that they might pay off the mortgage quicker, would make her spend more. Why, it had actually had the effect of making her more careful.
In addition to the money in the safe, there were one or two deeds connected with little bits of house property Manfred had acquired in Witanbury during the last six years. And then, on the top shelf of the safe, there were a lot of letters—letters written in German, of which of course she could make neither head nor tail. Once a month a registered letter arrived, sometimes from Holland, sometimes from Brussels, for Manfred; and it had gradually become clear to her that it was these letters which he kept in the safe.
There came a loud impatient knock at the door. She started guiltily.
“Open!” cried her husband imperiously. “Open, Polly, at once! I have already forbidden you to lock the door.”
But she knew by the tone of his voice that he was no longer really angry with her. So, walking rather slowly, she went across and unlocked the door.
She stepped back quickly—the door opened, and a moment later she was in her husband’s arms, and he was kissing her.
“Well, little one! You’re good now, eh? Does my little sugar lamb want a treat?”
Polly knew that when he called her his little sugar lamb it meant that he was in high good-humour.
“It won’t be much of a treat to stay at home and do the civil to that old Mrs. Bauer,” she said, and looked up at him coquettishly.