"I don't--" she began.

"I shall buy no Wilbraham Hall," he reiterated. Greek had met Greek.

The tram surged along and swallowed up the two Greeks. They were alone
in the tram, and they sat down opposite each other. The conductor came
and took James's money, and the conductor had hardly turned his back
when Helen snapped, with nostrils twitching:

"You're a miser, that's what you are! A regular old miser! Every one
knows that. Every one calls you a miser. If you aren't a miser, I should
like you to tell me why you live on about three pounds a week when your
income is ninety pounds a week. I thought I might do you some good. I
thought I might get you out of it. But it seems I can't."

"All!" he snorted. It was a painful sight. Other persons boarded the
car.

At tea she behaved precisely like an angel. Not the least hint of her
demeanour of the ineffable affray of the afternoon. She was so sweet
that he might have given her twenty-six Wilbraham Halls instead of
twenty-six pounds. He spoke not. He was, in a very deep sense, upset.

She spent the evening in her room.

"Good-bye," she said the next morning, most amiably. It was after
breakfast. She was hatted, gloved and sunshaded.

"What?" he exclaimed.