Money began to be somewhat of a difficulty with her. Thinking always that her future was rosy with prospects and that her salary would be sure to keep constantly increasing, she had never troubled to save much, and had, indeed, been living slightly above her income ever since she came to “Elm Cottage.” She paid twenty-five shillings a week rent, seven and sixpence a week to Florrie, besides a weekly half-crown to a visiting gardener and a charwoman. She had heaps of incidental expenses--periodic tuning of the piano--her season ticket to town--heavy bills for music, dresses and furniture (which she was constantly buying)--her quarterly payment to the press-cutting agency--books, magazines, expensive laundrying, a fastidious taste in food and restaurants, all added to make her expenditure a few shillings--sometimes a few pounds--per month in excess of her income. During her illness, her income had been nil and her expenses enormous. The nurse wanted two guineas a week, Dr. McPherson’s bills were notoriously high, and in the case of a person like Catherine he would probably charge more than usual. Five shillings a visit was his fee, and for a fortnight he had come twice a day, and for the last three weeks once. The West-end masseuse was even more exorbitant: her fees were half a guinea for each electric treatment lasting about half an hour. Household expenses were becoming terrific. The nurse seemed to think that Catherine was a person of infinite financial resources: she ordered from the grocer, the butcher, the poulterer and the fruiterer whatever she had a fancy to, in or out of season, regardless of expense. She and Catherine took their meals together, and Catherine’s appetite was never more than half that of the nurse. So the weeks passed and the bills of the tradesmen went piling up and Catherine’s cheque account at the bank came tumbling down.