“I have to charge that much more,” the woman explained apologetically, “because if I’m pushed to it I can put two beds even in the single rooms.”

“I daresay that won’t ruin us.  What do you think, Mildred?”

“Oh, I don’t mind.  Anything’s good enough for me,” she answered.

Philip passed off her sulky reply with a laugh, and, the landlady having arranged to send for their luggage, they sat down to rest themselves.  Philip’s foot was hurting him a little, and he was glad to put it up on a chair.

“I suppose you don’t mind my sitting in the same room with you,” said Mildred aggressively.

“Don’t let’s quarrel, Mildred,” he said gently.

“I didn’t know you was so well off you could afford to throw away a pound a week.”

“Don’t be angry with me.  I assure you it’s the only way we can live together at all.”

“I suppose you despise me, that’s it.”

“Of course I don’t.  Why should I?”

“It’s so unnatural.”

“Is it?  You’re not in love with me, are you?”

“Me?  Who d’you take me for?”

“It’s not as if you were a very passionate woman, you’re not that.”

“It’s so humiliating,” she said sulkily.

“Oh, I wouldn’t fuss about that if I were you.”

There were about a dozen people in the boarding-house.  They ate in a narrow, dark room at a long table, at the head of which the landlady sat and carved.  The food was bad.  The landlady called it French cooking, by which she meant that the poor quality of the materials was disguised by ill-made sauces:  plaice masqueraded as sole and New Zealand mutton as lamb.  The kitchen was small and inconvenient, so that everything was served up lukewarm.  The people were dull and pretentious; old ladies with elderly maiden daughters; funny old bachelors with mincing ways; pale-faced, middle-aged clerks with wives, who talked of their married daughters and their sons who were in a very good position in the Colonies.  At table they discussed Miss Corelli’s latest novel; some of them liked Lord Leighton better than Mr. Alma-Tadema, and some of them liked Mr. Alma-Tadema better than Lord Leighton.  Mildred soon told the ladies of her romantic marriage with Philip; and he found himself an object of interest because his family, county people in a very good position, had cut him off with a shilling because he married while he was only a stoodent; and Mildred’s father, who had a large place down Devonshire way, wouldn’t do anything for them because she had married Philip.  That was why they had come to a boarding-house and had not a nurse for the baby; but they had to have two rooms because they were both used to a good deal of accommodation and they didn’t care to be cramped.  The other visitors also had explanations of their presence:  one of the single gentlemen generally went to the Metropole for his holiday, but he liked cheerful company and you couldn’t get