“He won't give you your raise?”
Roland sighed.
“He's reduced me.”
“Reduced you!”
“Yes. Times are bad just at present, so he has had to lower me to a hundred and ten.”
The collected jaws of the family fell as one jaw. Muriel herself seemed to be bearing the blow with fortitude, but the rest were stunned. Frank and Percy might have been posing for a picture of men who had lost their fountain pens.
Beneath the table the hand of Albert Potter found the hand of Muriel Coppin, and held it; and Muriel, we regret to add, turned and bestowed upon Albert a half-smile of tender understanding.
“I suppose,” said Roland, “we couldn't get married on a hundred and ten?”
“No,” said Percy.
“No,” said Frank.