"Now we must have a talk," she said. "Allan has gone through Bruce's affairs, and there are still debts to be settled, it seems."
"How much do they come to, Deborah?"
"About five thousand dollars," she said. And for a moment neither spoke. "I wish I could help you out," she went on, "but I have nothing saved and neither has Allan. We've both kept using our money downtown—except just enough for the trip abroad—and we'll need almost all of that to settle for the funeral."
"I can manage," Roger said, and again there was a silence.
"Edith will have to come here to live," Deborah said presently. Her father's heavy face grew stern.
"I'd thought of that," he answered. "But it will be hard on her, Deborah—"
"I know it will—but I don't see anything else to be done." The deep quiet voice of his daughter grew sweet with pity as she spoke. "At least we can try to make it a little easier for her. You can take her up to the mountains and I can close her apartment. But of course she won't agree to it unless she knows how matters stand." Deborah waited a little. "Don't you think you're the best one to tell her?"
"Yes," said Roger, after a pause.
"Then suppose we go to her. I'm sleeping up there for the next few nights."