It was late in August. Marian was visiting Mrs. Brandon at Irvington-on-the-Hudson and she and Howard were driving.
“I never told you. But the fact is”—she hesitated again.
“Is it about your other engagement? You never told me about that—how you broke it off. I don’t want you to tell me unless you wish to. You know I never meddle in past matters. I’m simply trying to help you out.”
“Instead, you’re making it worse. I’d rather not tell you that if——”
“We’ll never speak of it again. And now, what is it that is troubling you?”
“I have been trying to tell you—I wish you wouldn’t look at me—I’ve got a small income—it’s really very small.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t like it. It isn’t very big—only about eight thousand a year—some years not so much. But then, if anything happened—we could be—we could live.”
Howard smiled as he looked at her—but not with his eyes.
“I’m glad,” he said. “It makes me feel safer in several ways. And I’m especially glad that it is not larger than mine. I know it’s stupid, as so many of our instincts are; but I should not like to marry a woman who had a larger income than I could earn. I think it is the only remnant I have of the ‘lord and master’ idea that makes so many men ridiculous. But we need not let that bother us. Fate has made us about equal in this respect, so unimportant yet so important; and we are each independent of the other. Each will always know that love is the only bond that holds us together.”