"No. Besides, there are three of those. You never could count." He hesitated: "This time it's only about Arthur—"
"Why; what's the matter?" The sense of apprehension woke in her again. What if Wyant really had begun to suspect that there was something, an imponderable something, wrong between Jim and Lita, and had been too shrewd to let Nona detect his suspicion?
"Haven't you noticed? He looks like the devil. He's been drinking again. Eleanor spoke to me—"
"Oh, dear." There it was—all the responsibilities and worries always closed in on Nona! But this one, after all, was relatively bearable.
"What can I do, Stan? I can't imagine why you come to me!"
He smiled a little, in his queer derisive way. "Doesn't everybody? The fact is—I didn't want to bother Jim."
She was silent. She understood; but she resented his knowing that she understood.
"Jim has got to be bothered. He's got to look after his father."
"Yes; but I— Oh, look here, Nona; won't you see?"
"See what?"