CHAPTER LII
Always afterwards, in thinking of that nightmare time, Joan remembered with a stab of remorse that when he held out his arms to her she had not gone to them—He did not make the mistake again.
In the hour they had together before others came, he made things as plain to her as he could. The sum was not large as defalcations go. Moore and Company would not suffer for it—they were a rich firm; and later when he had served out his term he would be able to pay them back. This he repeated over and over.
The trouble had commenced with the purchase of the house. It was too ambitious. Archie, struggle as he might, had begun shortly to fall behind with the payments, and had borrowed more money on it to meet them. (Joan recalled signing the papers, which meant nothing to her; merely "business.") Somehow, what Archie made never went quite far enough. Not through her fault!—this, too, he insisted upon again and again. How was she to guess how things were, so long as her own and the household allowances were paid to her regularly?
"Oh, but why didn't you tell me?"
"A fellow don't like to admit that he's bitten off more than he can chew, till he's sure."
So he had tried a little speculating, and won; a little more, and won again. (It was at this time that he bought Joan her modest automobile.) After that, the story is too trite to need repeating. There came the depression of 1913, later the cataclysm of the war; and Archie with the finances of Moore and Company at his disposal. He lost, heavily, and borrowed to protect himself; recovered enough to replace his borrowings; went in deeper—and was caught with no means of making good some $15,000.
"Our house?" suggested Joan, trembling.
"Mortgaged up to the eaves. Our equity in it wouldn't be a drop in the bucket."