MR. SMEETH GETS HIS RISE 2)9

sort of chap, almost an old miser, cutting a contemptible
figure in her eyes, and would refer to other men of her
acquaintance, big, open-handed, dashing fellows. That
would be so hateful that, finally, he would give in, and
then what would they have for the future, for the rainy
day? Empty bottles and chocolate-boxes and old pro-
grammes and souvenirs of Clacton. It wasn't good
enough. He saw one way out, of course, and that was
not to tell her at all, to say nothing about his rise until
he had made a good start with his savings; but he hated
the thought of doing that. It meant lying to her, not
once but perhaps scores of times. It would be all for the
best, but he had an idea that he would feel mean all the
time. Some chaps seemed to think of their wives as
people you always felt mean with, and to hear them talk
you would think they had married their worst enemies,
but though he and Edie were often pulling different
ways, that wasn't their style at all. So what was he to do?

His mind was still busy with this problem when he
left the office for the night and called in T. Benenden's,
round the corner. As he watched Benenden take down
the familiar canister, he wondered if Benenden was
married. He had exchanged remarks with him all these
years and never found that out. Surely Benenden
couldn't be married. A man who never wore a tie
couldn't possibly have a wife, unless, of course, he left
home with a tie and then took it off in the shop.

"You a married man, Mr. Benenden?" he inquired
casually.

T. Benenden stopped his weighing at once. "Now
that's a queer question," he said, staring.

"I beg your pardon, I'm sure/' said Mr. Smeeth,
rather embarrassed. "No business of mine at all"