"Yes," he said, "it is given to us.... What for?"
He leaned his head on his hand. He was not looking at her. He was looking at the cloth, weaving patterns upon it. And with this question something of boyhood came upon him again, and he weaved visions upon the cloth.
"To do one's duty in," she replied gently, but rebukingly.
Charlie did not know the classic phrase, "Cui bono." He merely repeated:
"What for?"
After supper he helped her to wash up, for the daily help left early in the afternoon; and then he asked her, idle as he knew the question to be, if she would like to come for a walk—just a short walk up the road.
She shook her head. "I ought not to leave the children."
"They're in bed," he argued, "and Maud's big enough to look after the others for half-an-hour. Maud's twelve."
She shook her head. "I ought not to leave the house."
"But," he began slowly.