Her son rose from his chair, and took two strides up and down the little room. "Aliette wouldn't like it," he repeated stubbornly. "But it's for her good." "I don't see that the admiral could do anything." "He might have some influence with his son." Ronald sat down again. All the literary Wixton in him urged acceptance of the plan. All the schoolmaster Cavendish urged refusal. "It would be going behind her back," he said at last. "It wouldn't be fair. She ought to be consulted first." "And suppose she refuses?" A little of the old dominance crept into Julia's voice. "Suppose she refuses? What are we to do then? Ronnie," the tone rose, "don't you see that it's our duty, our absolute duty? I don't want to be unkind, but the social position gets more impossible every day. Unless something is done, and done quickly, it'll take the pair of you all your lives to live down the scandal." "I know." His blue eyes saddened. "But there are worse things than scandal. There's," he seemed to be searching in his mind for a word, "there's disloyalty." "Don't be obstinate." She summoned up all her strength to beat down his opposition. "Do trust me. Do let me write to the admiral. I used to know him years ago. That might help." "Yes. But suppose it doesn't! Suppose you fail? Suppose Alie finds out?" "If I fail, we shall be no worse off than when I started. As for Aliette finding out, you can tell her if you like. Only don't tell her till afterwards." "You're sure it can't do any harm?" "Quite sure. You won't tell her?" "All right, mater. But don't ask me to take the extra allowance." "Very well. That shall be as _you_ wish." They came back, a little guilty, to the drawing-room. Aliette was laughing. Hearing her laugh, it seemed to Ronnie as though the tension of the morning had relaxed. 4 But the tension between them did not relax; rather, in those few days which followed Christmas, they came nearer to quarreling than ever before. The paying in of Julia's check raised the money question again. Ronnie wanted Aliette to use it immediately, to buy herself some clothes, to take a holiday. Aliette demurred. "We can't stay here forever," she protested, eying the scratched wall-paper of their bedroom. "I know, darling. But a boarding-house has its advantages. If we were to take a flat, who'd do the housework?" "Caroline and I could manage that easily between us." "I'd hate to see you doing housework." "I might be some use scrubbing floors. I'm none at the moment." "You are." "I'm not. I'm only a drag on you." So the game went on--the fact of their not being legally married and the sense of isolated responsibility which each felt for the other's happiness, making mountains out of every molehill. CHAPTER XXI 1