"Thinking of what, sweetheart?"
"Oh, so many things. You've come up again, haven't you, Ben, splendidly! Luck is with you, the General says, and whatever you touch prospers."
"Yes, I've come up, but this is the crisis. If I slip now, if I make a false move, if I draw out, I'm as dead as a door-nail. But give me five or ten years of hard work and breathless thinking, and I'll be as big a man as the General."
"As the General?" she repeated gently, and played with the petals of an American Beauty rose on the table beside her.
"As soon as I'm secure, as soon as I can slacken work a bit, I'm going to cut all this and take you away. We'll have a second honeymoon when that time comes."
"In five or ten years?"
"Perhaps sooner. Meanwhile, isn't there something that I can do for you? Is there anything on God's earth that you want? Would you like a string of pearls?"
She shook her head with a laugh. "No, I don't want a string of pearls. Is it time now to dress for dinner?"
"Would you mind if I didn't change, dear? I'm so tired that I shall probably fall asleep over the dessert."
An evening or two later, when I came up after seven o'clock, I thought that she had been crying, and taking her in my arms, I passionately kissed the tear marks away.