“Am I?” she asked flippantly. “What _is_ being extravagant? Is it buying new clothes when the old ones are worn out? Or is it,” and she cast a glance, which was full of sly, mischievous humour, at her husband’s grave face, “is it making an enormous collection of pictures at fabulous prices, and of antiques which may or may not be genuine, without being able to say whether, twenty years hence, they will have gone up in value, or down?” Sir Robert winced. “At any rate my pictures are a better investment than your frocks,” he said: “but we won’t quarrel about that. Ladies love pretty things, and the prettier the lady the more she loves them. I recognise that and I submit. So let me have the bills, and I’ll pay them.” A furtive look of fear came into her face and died out again, and then she said: “It’s very good of you, Bertie, but I really do want some money for myself too, money to spend as I like, to waste, perhaps. Won’t you let me have a couple of hundred to do as I like with?” Sir Robert shook his head with decision. “It’s more than I can do just now, dear,” he said. “Twenty pounds is the very utmost I can manage apart from the milliner’s bills, which, I suppose, will not be light.” An angry light flashed out of her beautiful dark eyes. Sir Robert was the last man to be mistrustful or suspicious, but even he found a vague fear intruding into his mind when he noted the seriousness of her displeasure. “Do you lose much money at bridge?” he asked quite suddenly. She lost colour a little, but answered contemptuously: “At bridge! No, of course not. I hate it, for one thing, and when I have to play I always take care not to lose much.” But Sir Robert’s suspicions once roused were not easily laid. “Do you gamble on the Stock Exchange?” he asked abruptly. A look of genuine horror appeared in her eyes. “I think I would as soon play pitch-and-toss!” she answered lightly. His tone became more imperative: “Do you bet on horses, or what? The money must go somewhere.” Again there was that same furtive look, but again she treated the question with hilarious contempt. “Of course I don’t do any of those things. However, if you won’t trust me with a little money, I suppose I must submit. Never mind me and my poor little wants now. Let us have a chat about you and your pleasures. What have you been buying while I’ve been away? Some nice pictures? Some queer old china figures? Some real bargains in Chippendale chairs at twenty-five guineas a-piece? Come, let’s take a walk through the gallery, and you shall show me the very latest arrivals.” Whether he believed in her interest or not, or whether he was glad that her importunities had ceased, Sir Robert was quite ready to show off his latest acquisition.