“You ain’t got the money?”
“No.”
“And you ain’t going to get it?”
“No.”
“Well, I couldn’t know that when I engaged the girl, could I?”
“No.” He paused to control his voice. “But you know it now. I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. You’re a poor man’s wife, Zeena; but I’ll do the best I can for you.”
For a while she sat motionless, as if reflecting, her arms stretched along the arms of her chair, her eyes fixed on vacancy. “Oh, I guess we’ll make out,” she said mildly.
The change in her tone reassured him. “Of course we will! There’s a whole lot more I can do for you, and Mattie—”
Zeena, while he spoke, seemed to be following out some elaborate mental calculation. She emerged from it to say: “There’ll be Mattie’s board less, any how—”
Ethan, supposing the discussion to be over, had turned to go down to supper. He stopped short, not grasping what he heard. “Mattie’s board less—?” he began.