“Place!” said the other, staring. “Place! I tell you I've done with work. For a man o' my means to go on working for thirty-five bob a week is ridiculous.”
“But suppose anything happened to me,” said his wife, in a troubled voice.
“That's not very likely,” said Mr. Gribble.
“You're tough enough. And if it did your money would come to me.”
Mrs. Gribble shook her head.
“WHAT?” roared her husband, jumping up.
“I've only got it for life, Henry, as I told you,” said Mrs. Gribble, in alarm. “I thought you knew it would stop when I died.”
“And what's to become of me if anything happens to you, then?” demanded the dismayed Mr. Gribble. “What am I to do?”
Mrs. Gribble put her handkerchief to her eyes.
“And don't start weakening your constitution by crying,” shouted the incensed husband.