"You see, I can't help it, can I? Keeping quiet doesn't ask you for this other half-crown, and I've got to ask you. I can't help it."
"I daresay not," he admitted reluctantly. "But—"
"Can I have it?" she asked doggedly.
"Oh, take it!" he flared, flung half-a-crown on the table, rose, and went out. She sat for a while looking at the half-crown, then she took it in her hand, and wanted to pitch it into the street for the first beggar to profit by, but, remembering that she was a beggar too, she kept it.
Osborn entered into further discussion of the matter in a reasonable vein.
"Half-a-crown a week's six pound ten a year. Sure you can't manage without?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, lots of women have to—to—manage."
"There's a limit even to management."
"I suppose there is. Very well."