Minnie was aware of something hostile in her husband’s attitude, and, with a very great effort, kept her opinions to herself.
The hot weather held, and it wore her out. The child couldn’t sleep at night. Her difficulties grew mountainous, outrageous. Horace’s assistance had stopped and they heard nothing about his will. At last she was forced to attack.
“Lionel,” she said, “I haven’t a penny. You’ll have to do something.”
He was silent.
“You know what those lawyers are,” she went on, “you have to keep after them. They expect it.”
But Lionel flatly refused even to make enquiries about the will. He would not run greedily after old Horace’s money.
“It’s not decent,” he said, stiffly.
“Oh, nonsense!” cried Minnie. “Do think a little, instead of using those silly stock phrases. There’s the poor baby. She needs clothes dreadfully. You shouldn’t let your pride stand in the way....”
“They’ll let us know at the proper time. Until they do, we can scrape along——”
“We can’t! I’ve bills everywhere. People are getting nasty. It’s dreadfully humiliating for me.”