“But you must,” she insisted. “You’ve been working too hard lately.”
“Next year,” he said, “I hope to get out of this city turmoil and take you away to some quiet place, where we can live for each other and the baby.”
She went over and knelt beside him, as he leaned wearily back in his big arm-chair.
“Why not now?” she pleaded.
“My God! I can’t, Helen!” he cried. “I want to, but I can’t! If you only knew—”
“I only know that you will break down, if you don’t take a rest,” she interrupted hastily. It would only add to his distress to learn that she knew his secret. “Don’t you suppose I can see how you are overtaxing your strength? We must go away for a time, anyway.”
“Little woman,” he said, putting an arm round her, “it’s a question of finance, and you never could understand that very well. When I get things in shape we will go, but not yet. I have some investments to watch, and,”—wearily,—“things have gone rather against me lately. There are lots of things to be done before I can take any extended vacation, and it is even a more serious matter to retire permanently. My earning capacity is about all we have to live on now.”
“I thought you had money invested,” she remarked.
“I had,” he replied, “but it was not enough, and in trying to make it enough I made some wrong guesses on the market.”
“Never mind,” she said cheerily. “We’ll make the best of what’s left. We won’t need much if we get away from this fearful life. It isn’t money that the baby and I want, it’s you; and we don’t want you to die for us, but to live for us.”