"'I'm afloat, I'm afloat,'" I guessed.

"The very thing. You've heard him. And saying our fortunes were made.
Took me out to the Ho'burm Restaurant, George,--dinner, and we had
champagne, stuff that blows up the back of your nose and makes you go
SO, and he said at last he'd got things worthy of me--and we moved here
next day. It's a swell house, George. Three pounds a week for the rooms.
And he says the Business'll stand it."

She looked at me doubtfully.

"Either do that or smash," I said profoundly.

We discussed the question for a moment mutely with our eyes. My aunt
slapped the pile of books from Mudie's.

"I've been having such a Go of reading, George. You never did!"

"What do you think of the business?" I asked.

"Well, they've let him have money," she said, and thought and raised her
eyebrows.

"It's been a time," she went on. "The flapping about! Me sitting doing
nothing and him on the go like a rocket. He's done wonders. But he wants
you, George--he wants you. Sometimes he's full of hope--talks of when
we're going to have a carriage and be in society--makes it seem so
natural and topsy-turvy, I hardly know whether my old heels aren't up
here listening to him, and my old head on the floor.... Then he gets
depressed. Says he wants restraint. Says he can make a splash but can't