This sounded generous and, so, irritated Margaret the more. "You know very well we can't live like decent people on twelve or fifteen thousand a year in Washington." "You knew that before you married me. What did you have in mind?" Silence. "Why do you find it difficult to be frank with me?" His courteous, appealing tone and manner made it impossible to indulge in the lie direct or the lie evasive. She continued silent, raging inwardly against him for being so ungenerous, so ungentlemanly as to put her in such a pitiful posture, one vastly different from that she had prearranged for herself when "the proper time" came. "You had something in mind," he persisted. "What is it?" "Grandmother wishes us to live with her," she said with intent to flank. "Would you like that?" he inquired; and her very heart seemed to stand still in horror at his tone. It was a tone that suggested that the idea was attractive! She debated. He must be "bluffing"--he surely must. She rallied her courage and pushed on: "It's probably the best we can do in the circumstances. We'd have almost nothing left after we'd paid our rent if we set up for ourselves. Even if I were content to pinch and look a frump and never go out, you'd not tolerate it." "Nothing could be more galling," said he, after reflecting, "than what people would say if we lived off your grandmother. No, going there is unthinkable. I like her, and we'd get on well together--" Margaret laughed. "Like two cats drowning in a bag." "Not at all," protested he sincerely. "Your grandmother and I understand each other--better than you and I--at least, better than you understand me. However, I'll not permit our being dependents of hers." Margaret had a queer look. Was not her taking enough money from the old lady to pay all her personal expenses--was not that dependence? "We'll return to that later," continued he, and she had an uncomfortable sense that he was answering her thought. "To go back to your idea in marrying me. You expected me to leave politics." "Why do you think that?" exclaimed she. "You told me." "_I_!" "You, yourself. Have you not said you could not live on what I get as a public man, and that if I were a gentleman I'd not expect you to?" Margaret stared foolishly at this unescapable inference from her own statements and admissions during his cross-examination. She began to feel helpless in his hands--and began to respect him whom she could not fool. "I know," he went on, "you're too intelligent not to have appreciated that either we must live on my salary or I must leave public life."