"Never;--that is while we are as we are now. If we were married--" "Ah,--I wish we were! Wouldn't it be nice?" "Do you really think so?" "Of course I do. I'm ready to-morrow for the matter of that." "But could you do something great?" "Something great! As to earning my bread, you mean? I do not think I could do that. I didn't turn my hand to it early enough." "I wasn't thinking of--your bread." "You said,--could I do something great?" "Frank, I wrote you a letter and described it all. How I got the courage to do it I do not know. I feel as though I could not bring myself to say it now. I wonder whether you would have the courage." "I should say so. I don't know quite what sort of thing it is; but I generally have pluck enough for anything in a common way." "This is something in an uncommon way." "I couldn't break open Travers and Treason, and get at the safe, or anything in that way." "It is another sort of safe of which you must break the lock, Frank; another treasure you must steal. Do you not understand me?" "Not in the least." "There is Tom," said Gertrude. "He is always wandering about the place now like a ghost. Let us go back to the gate." Then Frank turned. "You heard, I suppose, of that dreadful affair about the policeman." "There was a row, I was told." "Did you feel that the family were disgraced?" "Not in the least. He had to pay five shillings,--hadn't he,--for telling a policeman to go about his business?" "He was--locked up," said Gertrude, solemnly. "It's just the same. Nobody thinks anything about that kind of thing. Now, what is it I have got to do? We had better turn back again as soon as we can, because I must go up to the house before I go." "You will?" "Certainly. I will not leave it to your father to say that I came skulking about the place, and was ashamed to show my face. That would not be the way to make him give you your money." "I am sure he'd give it,--if we were once married." "If we were married without having it assured before hand we should look very blue if things went wrong afterwards." "I asked you whether you had courage." "Courage enough, I think, when my body is concerned; but I am an awful coward in regard to money. I wouldn't mind hashed mutton and baked potatoes for myself, but I shouldn't like to see you eating them, dearest, after all the luxuries to which you have been accustomed." "I should think nothing of it." "Did you ever try? I never came absolutely to hashed mutton, but I've known how very uncomfortable it is not to be able to pay for the hot joints. I'm willing to own honestly that married life without an income would not have attractions for me." "But if it was sure to come?" "Ah, then indeed,--with you! I have just said how nice it would be." "Have you ever been at Ostend?" she asked, suddenly. "Ostend. Oh, yes. There was a man there who used to cheat horribly at écarté. He did me out of nearly a hundred pounds one night."