"No. That was my own correction of his story."
She looked at him with wonder and doubt. "You aren't—doing it, Fred!" she exclaimed.
He nodded. "Yes, indeed." He looked at her placidly. "Why not?"
"You are supporting her?"
"If you wish to put it that way," said he carelessly. "My money pays the bills—all the bills."
"Fred!"
"Yes? What is it? Why are you so agitated?" He studied her face, then rose, took a final pull at the cigarette, tossed it in the fire. "I must be going," he said, in a cool, even voice.
She started up in a panic. "Fred! What do you mean? Are you angry with me?"
His calm regard met hers. "I do not like—this sort of thing," he said.
"But surely you'll explain. Surely I'm entitled to an explanation."