At length, when fifteen months of lectures gave her a new confidence, she tackled him point-blank one afternoon while they were walking on the Heath. He looked at her reproachfully, as though he were a master who had just been asked for a half-holiday. "My dear girl," he said, "is that quite logical?" She knew at once that hope was dead. It always was when logic once appeared. She never had a chance. "I don't know why not," she said gaily, for nowadays she did not go back to her kennel quite so easily. They had been married for two years. Hubert was forced to put the thing in words. "Well you see, my dear," he started, slowly, "I dare say other husbands have got their work finished by six o'clock. In fact"--and he brightened visibly--"that is really why they fixed that hour, I dare say. City men are back. But it's my best work-hour, you know." "_Is_ it?" laughed Helena, and looked at him. Then, as he did not seem to see the joke, "The _morning_ is, you know, if I ask you to come out shopping. I'm afraid, Hugh, you're just a little naughty!" And she shook her finger. "No," he said shortly, still not very much amused, for once, at her nice childish ways. "They _both_ are.... It's not much for a man to work, just two short goes at it, and I simply can't spare the time, however much I'd like to. I mustn't go out between tea and dinner when I'm on a book." "You used to, though," persisted Helena, "in Devonshire." It is a rash wife who recalls to her husband the days of single life. "Very likely," he answered impatiently; "but we weren't married then. I can't afford it now." The rash wife had it, full between the eyes; a brutal blow provoked by her incaution; and she reeled. "Can't afford it, Hugh?" she repeated, with a vague sense of being accused. "Why, do I cost so much? Do I cost more than Ruth?" He had not looked for anything quite as direct as that. He had blurted it out and now, as often, felt ashamed. He laughed and said in a much kinder tone: "Don't you worry your dear head about things like that. We shall be all right. You won't find the man in possession by our fireside yet, when you come home from market!" Now it was her turn not to be amused. "No, but tell me," she said. "I'd much rather know. Are we honestly hard up?" "What a practical little thing it's getting," he said, patting her on the back as they strode onward, always heralded by the long white dog with its straight tail, as proud as a drum-major. "Well, if you really want to know," he went on, "we are and have been, but we shan't be. Listen!" He turned about and about, his finger to his mouth, upon the empty spaces, clearly once more in the best of spirits. "Never tell a soul--and least of all the High-Art Alison--but I am doing a pot-boiler!" "What, something worse than you need?" she blurted out in her astonishment. He laughed at that. "Yes, if you put it so! Anyhow, something to make money."