“Will it do you much damage?” he asked.  “In pocket, I mean.”

“Oh, I—­I’ll have to sell out an investment or two, but it won’t do any real hurt to Ansdore.  Howsumever, I’ll have to go without my motor-car.”

“It was really rather silly of you to bring the action.”

“How, silly?”

“Well, you can’t have had much of a case, or you wouldn’t have lost it like this in an hour’s hearing.”

“Stuff and nonsense!  I’d a valiant case, if only that fool, Edward Huxtable, hadn’t been anxious to show how many hard words he knew, instead of just telling the judge about my improvements and that.”

“Really, Joanna, you might give up talking about your improvements.  They’ve nothing to do with the matter at all.  Can’t you see that, as the Government wanted the money, it’s nothing to them if you spent it on a steam plough or on a new hat.  As a matter of fact, you might just as well have bought your motor-car—­then at least we’d have that.  Now you say you’ve given up the idea.”

“Unless you make some money and buy it”—­pain made Joanna snap.

“Yes—­that’s right, start twitting me because it’s you who have the money.  I know you have, and you’ve always known I haven’t—­I’ve never deceived you.  I suppose you think I’m glad to be coming to live on you, to give up a fine commercial career for your sake.  I tell you, any other man with my feelings would have made you choose between me and Ansdore—­but I give up everything for your sake, and that’s how you pay me—­by despising me.”

“Oh, don’t, Bertie,” said Joanna.  She felt that she could bear no more.

They had come into Piccadilly, and the light was still warm—­it was not yet dinner-time, but Joanna, who had had no tea, felt suddenly weak and faint.

“Let’s go in there, dear,” she said, as they reached the Popular Cafe, “and have a cup of tea.  And don’t let’s quarrel, for I can’t bear it.”

He looked down at her drawn face and pity smote him.

“Pore ole girl—­aren’t you feeling well?”

“Not very—­I’m tired, like—­sitting listening to all that rubbish.”

“Well, let’s have an early dinner, and then go to a music-hall.  You’ve never been to one yet, have you?”

“No,” said Joanna.  She would have much rather gone straight home, but this was not the time to press her own wishes.  She was only too glad to have Bertie amicable and smiling again—­she realized that they had only just escaped a serious quarrel.

The dinner, and the wine that accompanied it, made her feel better and more cheerful.  She talked a good deal—­even too much, for half a glass of claret had its potent effect on her fatigue.  She looked flushed and untidy, for she had spent a long day in her hat and outdoor clothes, and her troubles had taken her thoughts off her appearance—­she badly needed a few minutes before the looking-glass.  As Albert watched her, he gave up his idea of taking