it away that we're not married?" she asked
quickly.

"No."

"Why won't you live with me as if we were married then?"

"My dear, I can't explain. I don't want to humiliate you, but I simply
can't. I daresay it's very silly and unreasonable, but it's stronger than
I am. I loved you so much that now..." he broke off. "After all, there's
no accounting for that sort of thing."

"A fat lot you must have loved me!" she exclaimed.

The boarding-house to which they had been directed was kept by a bustling
maiden lady, with shrewd eyes and voluble speech. They could have one
double room for twenty-five shillings a week each, and five shillings
extra for the baby, or they could have two single rooms for a pound a week
more.

"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;