"Desperately."
"Yet you must spare me a part of one, and teach me to keep accounts," said she, and smiled bravely albeit her face was wan.
Chapter III.
MISCALCULATING WRATH.
Mr. Langton sat in his private apartment by Boston Quay trying the balance of a malacca cane.
Sir Oliver had sailed a week ago. Mr. Langton had walked down to the ship with him and taken his farewell instructions.
"By the way," said Sir Oliver, "I want you to make occasion to visit Eagles now and again, and pay your respects. I shall write to you as well as to her; and the pair of you can exchange news from your letters. She likes you."
"I hope so," answered Langton, "because 'tis an open secret that I adore her."
Sir Oliver smiled, a trifle ruefully. "Then you'll understand how it hits a man to leave her. Maybe—for I had meant to make you paymaster in my absence—you'll also forgive me for having changed my mind?"
"I'd have called you a damned fool if you hadn't," said Langton equably. "She's your wife, hang it all: and I'll lay you five pounds you'll return to find her with hair dishevelled over your monstrous careless bookkeeping. My dear Noll, a woman—a good woman—is never completely happy till convinced that she, and only she, has saved the man she loves from ruin; and, what's more, she's a fool if she can't prove it."