Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. “Of course you don’t. " Then he looked at Ruth. You’d better not have all the money on you; you had better open a small account in the postoffice and draw it out a fiver at a time. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear. It did seem germane to the matter that so many of the people “in the van” were plain people, or faded people, or tired-looking people. “Why not? Isn’t the whole thing a lie? Isn’t her reputation, this husband of hers, the ‘Alcide’ business, isn’t it all a cursed juggle? She hasn’t the right to do it.
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