"It leaves fifty-five pounds between us for my clothes and lunches, and travelling, and your pocket money."
"How about your commission, Osborn? Your 'extras'?"
"With luck they'll pay for a decent holiday once a year or so."
Marie suddenly readjusted her scheme of life while she sat blindly gazing before her into that too-costly fire. "Osborn," she said quietly, "I—I shouldn't think of wanting any of your fifty-five pounds. You'll need it all; you must keep up appearances. I'll squeeze some pocket money out of the housekeeping."
"Oh, my darling!" said Osborn gratefully, "do you really think you could? I expect, though, there'll be a nice bit over, if you're careful, don't you? You won't want to spend ten pounds on coal, for example."
"I intend to manage," Marie replied vigorously.
"And I'll often be able to give you a decent present out of my commission. I shan't let you go short."
"Osborn, I mean to help you. We'll get on splendidly. You do love me, don't you?"
"My darling, I adore you; and I know you're the finest, bravest girl in the world. I would like to load you with everything beautiful under the sun, and some day I will. When I get a rise, you'll be the first to benefit. I'll make you a real pin-money allowance. Don't I long to do it?"
"Osborn, meanwhile, can I have this week's money?"