Marie flushed, too, till her face burned and tears glittered in her eyes.
"I'm afraid," she said, "that—that we'll have to buy a pram, shan't we?"
"A 'pram'?" said Osborn, as if she had asked for a motor-car.
"All babies have to have one. It's time—he ought to have had after the first month. He's getting so heavy, I can't carry him about much longer."
"Then don't carry him about."
"I've got to, unless I stay in altogether."
Osborn became silent. Because he felt desperately poor he also felt desperately angry; because he felt desperately angry he was angry with the most convenient person—his wife.
"Couldn't we buy one," said Marie, after he had remained mute for some while, "from the furniture people on the instalment plan?"
"Instalment plan!" he barked. "I'm sick of instalments! When am I ever going to be free? When's my money ever going to be my own again? Tell me that!"
"I can't tell you anything," said Marie, beginning to cry.