Coppin burst into tears, her invariable practise in any crisis.
Albert Potter's face relaxed into something resembling a smile.
"He won't give you your raise?"
Roland sighed.
"He's reduced me."
"Reduced you!"
"Yes. Times are bad just at present, so he has had to lower me to a
hundred and ten."
The collected jaws of the family fell as one jaw. Muriel herself seemed
to be bearing the blow with fortitude, but the rest were stunned. Frank
and Percy might have been posing for a picture of men who had lost
their fountain pens.
Beneath the table the hand of Albert Potter found the hand of Muriel
Coppin, and held it; and Muriel, we regret to add, turned and bestowed
upon Albert a half-smile of tender understanding.
"I suppose," said Roland, "we couldn't get married on a hundred and
ten?"
"No," said Percy.
"No," said Frank.
"No," said Albert Potter.
They all spoke decidedly, but Albert the most decidedly of the three.
"Then," said Roland regretfully, "I'm afraid we must wait."
It seemed to be the general verdict that they must wait. Muriel said
she thought they must wait.
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