But one morning a more serious quarrel arose, for Basil, somewhat pressed for money, had discovered that James Bush, still out of work, was steadily borrowing from Jenny. He had begged her not to lend any more, and finding her unwilling to give a promise, was obliged somewhat peremptorily to insist that not another penny should go into the grasping hands of the Bush family. On both sides there was a good deal of irritation, and finally Basil flung out of the house. Presently James Bush, cause of all the trouble, sauntered in.
“Where’s his lordship this afternoon?” he asked, helping himself to Basil’s cigarettes.
“He’s gone out for a walk.”
“That’s what he tells you, my dear,” he answered with a malevolent laugh.
“Have you seen him anywhere?” asked Jenny quickly, full of suspicion.
“No, I can’t say I ’ave, an’ if I ’ad I wouldn’t boast about it.”
“What did you mean, then?” she insisted.
“Well, whenever I come here he’s out for a walk.”
He glanced at her, and then without more ado asked for the loan of a couple of sovereigns; but Jenny, mindful of the morning’s dispute, and regretfully conscious that herself had brought it about, firmly refused. Since he insisted, accusing her of meanness, she was forced to explain how heavy of late had been their expenses; the doctor had sent in a bill for fifty pounds, the visit to Brighton cost a great deal, and they would have much difficulty to make both ends meet.
“It was a wonderful fine thing you did when you married him, Jenny, and you thought you’d done precious well for yourself too.”