"But you—you've gone to work. There's your wages!"
"Oh, yes, there are my—wages."
Something in his tone sent a swift suspicion to her eyes.
"Do you mean—they aren't so big as your allowance?"
"I certainly do."
"How perfectly horrid! Just as if it wasn't mean enough for him not to let us live there, without—"
"Helen!" Burke Denby pulled himself up in his chair. "See here, dear, I shan't let even you say things like that about dad. Now, for heaven's sake, don't let us quarrel about it," he pleaded impatiently, as he saw the dreaded quivering coming to the pouting lips opposite.
"But I—I—"
"Helen, dearest, don't cry, please don't! Crying won't help; and I tell you it's serious business—this is."
"But are you sure—do you know it's true?" faltered the young wife, too thoroughly frightened now to be angry. "Did you see—your father?"