"But you get no dividends," he suggested, raising his brows.
"No; no dividends," said she. "No more do you."
"No; but we shall."
"I suppose we shall."
"He'll pull us through."
"I wish he'd never been born," cried Adela.
"Perhaps. Since he has, I shall keep my eye on him."
From the shrubbery at the side of the lawn, Maggie Dennison came out. She was leaning on her husband's arm, and Tom Loring walked with them. A minute later they had heard from Adela the news of the ending of young Sir Walter's life and hopes.
"Good God!" cried Harry Dennison in grief.
They sat down and began to talk sadly of the lost boy. Only Maggie Dennison said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, and she seemed hardly to hear. Yet Adela, stealing a glance at her, saw her clenched hand quiver.