THE EVIL THAT MEN DO—
He whistled for some minutes in the hall, looked vainly into her bedroom, the kitchen and the nursery, then went round to the office to put in some work. Harold was a solicitor. Coming in again at lunch-time he met her crossing the hall. She looked at him vaguely.
"Why, you are back early!"
"I was back two hours ago," said he.
"Did you have a nice time in London?"
He explained, with his usual patience, that one does not expect to have a nice time when one goes up to London on business.
"Of course," he said, "we're all out to get what we can out of London. We all, as you might say, 'pick it over.' Only what I'm out for isn't pleasure—I leave that to you, don't I?—I'm out for other pickings."
"Yes, Harold."
"This is very good beef."
"Yes, isn't it," she cried, much gratified. "I got it at Hoskins'—Mrs. Peck deals there, she told me about it. It is much cheaper than at Biddle's, tuppence less in the pound. I have to cross over to the other side of the street now when I pass Biddle's. I haven't
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