'Look at Bobby Anstruther. His garage is making three thousand a year, hiring out defunct Daimlers. You have to book one days ahead.'
'He'll be bust in a year when every one's spent their money.'
Well, look at young Peter Carey, making thousands on the Stock Exchange. And what about that Rhodesian man we met at dinner to-night? He said there were pots of money to be made in mealies in Africa. He said any fool could grow them.'
'Not in London?'
'No, darling. But if I can't be in London, I'd rather be in Jericho or Tierra del Fuego than in a blasted provincial town. Listen, Archie,' and she went on to repeat what the South African had told her, how the Chartered Company were giving tracts of 3000 acres in Northern Rhodesia to approved ex-officers, free for the asking, provided they occupied and worked them.
Archie shook his head. 'I might be able to make farming pay,' he said, 'I was brought up on a farm. But it's a hard life, and, in spite of your friend, it's slow money. You'd like it worse than Edinburgh and the Bar.'
'If you mention Edinburgh or the Bar again, I'll tell the head waiter that I don't know who you are, and you've accosted me.'
Then with one of her sudden changes of moods:
'Archie, I'm sorry. I'm being a beast to you to-night. I don't mean to be, dear, but I'm tired, and Edinburgh ... say you forgive me, darling, and I won't say another word about it.'
But Norah had got her toes in and her husband's opposition to the African plan only made her dig them in deeper. Though Archie was as obstinate as they make them, his will was weakened by his anxiety to please his wife. Like most men, he was attracted by the idea of an outdoor life; but that northern pre-vision of the disadvantages of any agreeable course, held him back, and by birth and breeding he was mistrustful of anything new and unproven. Moreover, he did not believe that Norah would like the life.