"Living?" grumbled Erhart. "I really don't think Basil's way of living is admirable. I wish he didn't drink at all. It's no wonder he's nervous and irritable, and his temper bad."
"I thought you liked Basil," said Teresa demurely.
"I do like him—very much, in some ways. And that's why I hate to see him wasting himself so. It would be a lot better for you if he worked more regularly and successfully. I don't think he does as much as he might for you. You're the sort of woman that luxury suits, you need it. I should think it would be a pleasure to give it to you."
Teresa put a shade of melancholy into her far-away gaze. "My tastes are very simple," she said.
"Oh, that's because you're really very sweet and kind, and you never worry people; I've noticed that. But all beautiful women need a setting, and they all want it, too, if they haven't got it. When a man's lucky enough to be married to a woman like you, he ought to live up to it. Basil's a good fellow, an interesting fellow, but I don't think he deserves you, really."
Teresa's amusement in this conversation was so great that she repeated it word for word to Basil. Basil was not at all amused.
"I'd like to know what the devil he means by that sort of talk," he said. "I don't call it very friendly, abusing me like that to you. He's
