There are women who will be kinder to a sick tramp than to a conquering hero. But the sick tramp had better remember that's what he is. Take care, take care! Humble's the word!
CHAPTER XVII
That “mystery about pianos” which troubled Bibbs had been a mystery to Mr. Vertrees, and it was being explained to him at about the time Bibbs scribbled the reference to it in his notes. Mary had gone up-stairs upon Bibbs's departure at ten o'clock, and Mr. and Mrs. Vertrees sat until after midnight in the library, talking. And in all that time they found not one cheerful topic, but became more depressed with everything and with every phase of everything that they discussed—no extraordinary state of affairs in a family which has always “held up its head,” only to arrive in the end at a point where all it can do is to look on helplessly at the processes of its own financial dissolution. For that was the point which this despairing couple had reached—they could do nothing except look on and talk about it. They were only vaporing, and they knew it.
“She needn't to have done that about her piano,” vapored Mr. Vertrees. “We could have managed somehow without it. At least she ought to have consulted me, and if she insisted I could have arranged the details with the—the dealer.”
“She thought that it might be—annoying for you,” Mrs. Vertrees explained. “Really, she planned for you not to know about it until they had removed—until after to-morrow, that is, but I decided to—to mention it. You see, she didn't even tell me about it until this morning. She has another idea, too, I'm afraid. It's—it's—”
“Well?” he urged, as she found it difficult to go on.
“Her other idea is—that is, it was—I think it can be avoided, of course—it was about her furs.”
“No!” he exclaimed, quickly. “I won't have it! You must see to that. I'd rather not talk to her about it, but you mustn't let her.”
“I'll try not,” his wife promised. “Of course, they're very handsome.”