TONNAGE.
"Oh, dear," said Francesca, "everything keeps going up." She was engaged upon the weekly books and spoke in a tone of heartfelt despair.
"Well," I said, "you've known all along how it would be. Everybody's told you so."
"Everybody? Who's everybody in this case?"
"I told you so for one, and Mr. Asquith mentioned it several times, and so did Mr. McKenna."
"I have never," she said proudly, "discussed my weekly books with Messrs. Asquith and McKenna. I should scorn the action."
"That's all very well," I said. "Keep them away as far as you can, but they'll still get hold of you. The Chancellor of the Exchequer knows your weekly books by heart."
"I wish," she said, "he'd add them up for me. He's a good adder-up, I suppose, or he wouldn't be what he is."
"He's fair to middling, I fancy—something like me."
"You!" she said, in a tone of ineffable contempt. "You're no good at addition."