"We will afford it. I'll make lots of money for my Marie. We'll have a dear old time!"
"I've been thinking, Osborn."
"A wretched exercise," he said gaily. "Don't you worry yourself, chicken. Just be happy. That's all I ask." He grew the least degree pathetic. "I can't be here all day to look after you, and see that you're happy; you'll have to see to it yourself. Do that for me, will you? Make my girl awf'ly happy."
"I am happy, Osborn."
"We do ourselves pretty well, don't we, dear?" he said appreciatively. "This is jolly snug. Now I'll make the coffee. You sit still."
Marie watched Osborn. She took her cup from him, and stirred her coffee into a whirlpool, and at last said:
"You see, Osborn, I want some money, please."
"All right, darling," he replied. "I'll give you a bit to go on with any time."
His ready hand jingled in his trousers pocket.
"It's for the tradesmen," said Marie; "I thought we'd pay every week."