"Eight hundred a year," she said, writing. "That's two hundred a quarter. I'd better cross the check." "Don't be absurd, mater." Ronnie frowned. "But I want you to have it." "What for?" "Oh, clothes. You ought to dress better. Club subscriptions. Entertaining. Cigars. I don't know what men spend their money on. Women, mostly, I suppose." Blotting the check, she would have given anything in the world to say: "Ronnie, darling, do take it. I can't slobber like other women. But I love you--you're everything I have in the world. Please, please Ronnie, don't refuse this. It's not money--it's just a token--a token of my love for you." Actually, she said: "If your father hadn't been such a fool about money matters, he'd have left _you_ his estate. He knew that I could always make all I wanted." Ronnie frowned again. "You know perfectly well that I won't take it." "Not even to oblige me? I--I want you to take it. It may cheer you up. You've been looking depressed lately." "Have I?" They had played this comedy of the allowance more than once since his father's death; but never before had he seen her so insistent. "Yes." She stretched out the check to him, knowing her offer already rebuffed. In a way, she was proud of his independence. All the same, it hurt. One ought to be able to do more for one's child. "I'm not depressed. And I'm not hard up. Really." He smiled at her across the desk--one of those rare smiles which reminded her of the boy she had tried to tip at Winchester. She seemed to hear his boyish voice, "The pater gave me a fiver when he was down last. I don't need any more. Honestly, mater." "You're quite sure?" "Quite." He watched her tear up the check; noticed a sheaf of proofs on her desk; and questioned her about them. "Another short story!" "No. It's an article on 'Easy Divorce' for next month's 'Contemplatory.' These are the duplicate proofs." "You're opposing it?" "Of course." "On moral grounds?" "Not entirely. Listen!" She put on her spectacles, and read him the opening paragraphs. "The woman of to-day is asking that divorce and remarriage should be made easier. Why? Because the woman of to-day refuses to face the simple fact that primarily she is her husband's helpmate. Personally I am a Churchwoman; and therefore find it impossible to believe the remarriage of divorced people justified. I am willing to admit that, in a limited number of cases, divorce itself may be expedient. But I feel that to make divorce easier would be a direct encouragement of immorality. We have to face facts. Woman is not, never has been, and never will be capable of resisting the sentimental impulse." "You're a real Puritan at heart, aren't you, mater?" he interrupted. She put down the proofs, vaguely distressed that he should prefer her conversation to her written word. For work, to Julia Cavendish, counted more than anything in life--except this lean, clean, sober-minded son of hers.