"No, I didn't know then that you'd agree to my proposition," answered John Denby, with a characteristically grim smile. "But I knew, if you did agree, we'd both have some talking to do. And if you didn't—I should. I meant still to convince you, you see."
"I see," nodded the younger man, smiling in his turn.
"So I wouldn't go down this morning. We've lots of plans to make. Besides, there's your letter."
"Yes, there's—my—letter." This time the young man did not smile. "I've got to write my letter, of course."
CHAPTER X
BY ADVICE OF COUNSEL
Helen Denby received the letter from her husband at two o'clock by a special messenger.
Helen had passed a sleepless night and an unhappy morning. The surge of bitter anger which at first, like the ink, had blackened everything it touched, soon spent itself, and left her weak and trembling. Dorothy Elizabeth, after her somewhat upsetting day, sank into an unusually sound slumber; but her mother, all through the long night watches, lay with sleepless eyes staring into the dark, thinking.
Helen was very angry with Burke. There was no gainsaying that. She was a little frightened, too, at what she herself had said. In a soberer moment she would not have spoken quite like that, certainly. But it had been so hateful—his asking if she called that a happy home! As if she did not want a happy home as much as he ever could!