Claude flushed, suddenly and violently.
"Charmian! You can't suppose—"
"Surely a wife has the right to do something to help her husband?"
"But I don't need—I mean, I could never consent—"
She made a face at him, drawing down her brows, and turning her eyes to the left where the caretaker stood, with a bunch of keys in his large, gouty, red hands. Claude said no more. As they went out Charmian smiled at the caretaker.
"We are going to take it. My husband likes it."
"Yes, ma'am. It's a mighty fine studio. The Baron was sorry to leave it, but he had to go back to Vi-henner."
"I see."
"Now the next thing is to furnish it," said Charmian, as they walked away.
"I shall only want my piano, a chair, and a table," said Claude.