No, thank you.

I'm in charge of Mr.Finn's health." It was the old Jane, so familiar.

"I wish," said he, with a smile--"I wish I had had your common sense to guide me all these years." "If you had, you would now be a clerk in the City earning thirty shillings a week." "And perhaps a happier man." "Bosh, my dear Paul!" she said, shaking her head slowly.

"Rot! Rubbish! I know you too well.

You adding up figures at thirty shillings a week, with a common sense wife for I suppose you mean that--mending your socks and rocking the cradle in a second-floor back in Hickney Heath! No, my dear"-- she paused for a second or two and her lips twitched oddly--"common sense would have been the death of you." He laughed in spite of himself.