"Do not think me rude or interfering, dear Mrs. Waring" (how the name seemed to choke him!), "but are you left in difficulties?"
"I don't think so—besides, he will come back soon. But why do you ask? Have you any reason?"
"I am afraid people will think it is business difficulties that have made him go."
"But the business is prospering."
"Still you need some capital to go on with."
"The business, I am sure, is all right, besides if I were pressed I have a little of my own." That morning she had found the key of Ralph's desk in her pocket. It had startled her at the time, for Ralph must have placed it there; and now, taking it from her pocket, she rose, went to the high desk standing in the corner, and unlocking it produced the bank book. She opened it quickly, took one glance and then closed it with a sob. Ralph had drawn the whole of the money out as recently as the previous Monday. She put the book from her with a shudder; it was like the death certificate of her husband's honour.
A paper had fallen out of the desk, and mechanically she stooped to pick it up, praying as she did so for strength to appear calm.
Stephen was watching her closely, a struggle going on in his own heart too.
"Is the account all right?" he asked.
"No," then another sob. Oh, for strength! Why could she not make herself be calm? She looked at the paper in her hand, and more because she thought it might give her time to master her feelings than for anything else, she said, "Can you tell me what all these figures are about?"