She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. . The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. I went off to round up his wife. It did not occur to her that they at least had found a way of earning a living, and had that much economic superiority to herself. “That’s all.
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