"I can. I don't mind roughing it. I could live on a hundred a year--or less, if I don't marry."
"Well, I don't mean you to try. You needn't bother about what you can live on and what you can't live on. It was all settled last night. Your mother and I talked it over. We don't want you to go into the business. We don't want you to take work from Mr. Stephen. We want you to be absolutely free to do your own work, under the best possible conditions, whether it pays or not. Nothing in the world matters to us but your happiness. You're to have a hundred and fifty a year when you're living at home and two hundred and fifty when you're living abroad. I suppose you'll want to go abroad sometimes. I can't give you a bigger allowance, because I have to help Nicky--"
Michael covered his face with his hands.
"Oh--don't, Daddy. You do make me feel a rotten beast."
"We should feel rottener beasts," said Frances, "if we stood in your way."
"Then," said Michael (he was still incredulous), "you do care?"
"Of course we care," said Anthony.
"I don't mean for me--for it?"
"My dear Mick," said Frances, "we care for It almost as much as we care for you. We're sorry about Germany though. Germany was one of your father's bad jokes."
"Germany--a joke?"