Mrs Maynard took a cup of coffee and half a piece of toast; Mr Maynard a cup of tea. The problem which occupied the two minds behind the large, dark jowled faces did not reach words: the native servant stood at attention throughout the meal by the sideboard.Mr Maynard said: ‘I have to be at the Magistrates’ Court in forty minutes.’ Mrs Maynard said: ‘I believe the living-room is empty.’ Mr Maynard waited by the door of the living-room, watching the morning sun quiver on the glossy leaves of the veranda plants. Mrs Maynard, tucking a white handkerchief into the bosom of her stiff navy-blue dress, where it stood up like a small stiff fan, came to a stop beside him, remarking: ‘I think you had better let me see the girl.’ She said ‘gal’.He said: ‘I saw her last time, and she was quite amenable to persuasion.’‘It’s a woman’s thing,’ she said, but without force.‘How much are we prepared to go to?’‘I shouldn’t think we’d get out of it under a hundred.’‘Doesn’t do to give that sort of person a handle, I should be careful,’ she said.
