He yawned again.--"Oh, the Bookshop advertisement--and advertisements generally. It begins to look as if we should have to be less exclusive about these things. Strong tells me that it's unheard-of for a paper to refuse any advertisement it can get." "I mean when you got out the atlas." "Oh--India, of course. The Indian policy. Strong isn't altogether satisfied about Prang. He seems to think he might get us into trouble." "How? Why?" Amory said, her eyes reflectively on the purring gas-jets. "Can't make out. Some fancy of his. The policy hasn't changed, and Prang hasn't changed. I wonder whether Wilkinson's right when he says Strong's put his hand to the plough but is now ... _ah!_ That reminds me!--Were you here when that preposterous fellow--what's his name--Crabtree--rather let the cat out of the bag about Wilkinson?" "You mean about another paper? No. But Walter said something about it." "Yes, by Jove! He seems to have it all cut-and-dried! Crabtree seems to think I knew all about it. Of course I did know that Wilkinson had a scheme, but I'd no idea he was jumping ahead at that rate. I don't want two papers. One's getting rather serious." Still without looking at her husband, Amory said, "How, serious?" "Why, the expense. I'm not sure that we didn't take the wrong line about the advertisements. Anyway, something will have to be done. Thirty pounds a week is getting too stiff. I'm seriously thinking of selling out from the Eden and the Bookshop. Do you know that with one thing and another we're down more than three thousand pounds this year?" Amory was surprised; but she realized instinctively that that was not the moment to show her surprise. Were she to show it, the moment would not be opportune for the raising of the subject of the fund, and she wanted to raise that subject. And she wanted to raise it in connexion with Cosimo and Britomart Belchamber. She continued to gaze at the log. The servants, she thought, might have taken the opportunity of dinner to sweep up the litter of cigarette-ends that surrounded it; and then she had a momentary fancy. It was, that the domestic relations that existed between herself and Cosimo were a thing that, like that mechanical substitute for a more generous fire, could be turned off and on as it were by the mere touching of a tap. She wondered what made her think of that.... Cosimo had taken out his penknife and was scraping his nails, moodily running over items of disbursement as he scraped; and then the silence fell between them again. It was Amory who broke it, and in doing so she turned her head for the first time. She gave her husband a look that meant that, though he might talk about expenses, she also had a subject. "Walter was excessively stupid to-night," she said abruptly. He said "Oh?" and went on scraping. "At the best he's never a model of tact, but I thought he rather overstepped the mark at dinner." Again he said "Oh?" and added, "What about?"