He hung his head and began to moan again, and to rock back and forth, and then suddenly he leaned over, seized his head in his two hands and began to weep violently, like a child. Strangely enough, to her own surprise, she found herself calmly and coolly watching him. She could see the convulsive movements of his back as he sobbed; she could see his fingers viciously tearing at the roots of his hair. She sat and watched him; how long she did not know. Then she said:
"Don't cry, Dick; they'll hear you down-stairs."
He made an effort to control himself, and Elizabeth suddenly remembered that he had told her nothing at all.
"What do you mean," she asked, "by the bank?"
"I mean," he said without uncovering his face, and his hands muffled his words, "that I'm--into it."
Ah, yes! This was the dim, unposited thought, the numb, aching dread, the half-formed, unnamed, unadmitted fear that had lurked beneath the thought of all these months--underneath the father's thought and hers; this was what they had meant when they exchanged glances, when now and then with dread they approached the subject in obscure, mystic words, meaningless of themselves, yet pregnant with a dreadful and terrible import. And now--it had come!
"How much?" she forced herself to ask.
He nodded.
"It's big. Several--"
"What?"