Vivian looked across the table and met Poppy's eyes. "That's hardly what you are getting at, is it?" he asked. "Your protest is against the imposition of the tax, isn't it? It's a matter of principle, isn't it? My paying it wouldn't help." "I have not asked you to pay it." "As a matter of fact, I haven't the slightest intention of paying it, Poppy. You put me in an absurd position, that's all." We had finished dinner, and the men went up to the drawing room with us. A funny thought struck Basil on the way up. He chuckled. "Of course, Viv," he said, "if Poppy sticks to that, you'll have to do something. There's the Husband's Liability Act. You're liable, you know." Basil is a barrister. Well, we talked of other things and pretended not to notice Vivian's strained eyes and Poppy's high color. She took me off after a time to see the new studio, and it did not take me long to tell her what I thought. "It's absurd," I said. "Do you expect to break down iron bars by banging a head against them?" "It's my head," she said sulkily. "Not at all. It's Vivian's. They will jail him." "I didn't make the law." "Like the man with the Ten Commandments at Guildford!" I retorted. "He didn't make them, but you know where he said he'd go if he broke them. By the way, Poppy, I've always meant to ask you, did you ever get a retort ready in case the T. C. came up again?" But the men came in just then, and I did not learn. It was rather a ghastly evening. We were all most polite and formal and Basil took me home. I told him about my house at home in the United States, and the way I'd been treated, and having nothing at the end of a year but plumber's bills and tax receipts. "I'm glad you haven't any particular income," he said at last. "That's one element of discord removed." "I don't understand." "Yes, you do," he said calmly. "You know exactly what I mean, and what I hope and what I feel. I don't dare to say it, because if I start I'll--Madge, I shall _not_ propose to you until my Uncle Egbert dies. I don't want you until I can support you comfortably--that's a lie. I want you damnably, all the time." I do not remember that we said anything more until we reached Daphne's. Then, as he helped me out, I said: "How old is Uncle Egbert?" "Eighty-six," he replied grimly, and went away without shaking hands. Well, to go back to Poppy, for of course it is her story I am telling, not mine. Mother came over soon after that and I went with her to Mentone for two months. Then she went back to America from Genoa, and I went back to London. Mother is the sweetest person in the world, and I adore her, but she represents the old-fashioned woman, and of course I stand for the advanced. For instance, she was much more interested in Basil Ward than in the Cause, and she absolutely disapproved of Poppy's stand about the income tax.