“Oh, he just ran in for a moment to say he’d returned. He intended to look you up in the morning. He was very busy—he told me—some man from Boston to entertain—one of the directors of his company, I believe.”
Donald seemed for a moment engrossed in his thoughts. She observed a worried look cross his face, but could not determine its cause.
“I’m glad he’s back,” he said. “I’ve got a matter I want to talk over with him.”
“What is it?” His seriousness for a moment frightened her.
“It’s something I’ve been considering for a long time. I hardly like to speak of it to him, and yet I don’t know anyone else to whom I can turn. It’s about that glass plant of ours, in West Virginia. We’re awfully short of capital, and I have an idea that there is trouble ahead. The money market is getting tighter and tighter. The outlook for business is bad. We are likely to need a little money, before long, to tide us over. I’m thinking of suggesting to Billy that if he wants to invest a few thousands on first-class security—bonds, he might very easily do much worse than put it into our concern.”
She took up her sewing again with a sigh of relief. So it was nothing but a matter of business, after all, with which she was not greatly concerned. Yet, before she replied, a curious pang of conscience smote her. Billy would do this, she knew; do it for her sake, if not, indeed, for Donald’s, and for a brief space she felt ashamed to think that Donald would owe the assistance he needed to the fact that Billy West loved her. The thought was fleeting—elusive—and in a moment was swallowed up in the greater knowledge of their love; yet, for that moment, she had ranged herself beside her husband, resenting the suggestion for his sake, finding in it something that humiliated and hurt her.
“If it is a good investment,” she presently exclaimed, “I don’t see why he should not put some money into it.”
“Of course it’s a good investment. I shouldn’t have my own in it, if it weren’t. We need only a small amount—nothing to West. He can’t begin to spend his income.” He looked moodily about the room. “I’m not envious, but I wish I had a tenth of it. There are so many things I’d like to do for you, dear, if I only could. I’m glad that he has been able to make the past few months more pleasant for you. Billy is one of the best fellows I’ve ever met—generous and unselfish to a fault. I’m very fond of him; I haven’t a friend I think more of.”
Again the pang of conscience smote Edith. The enormity of the deception which she and West had been practicing upon Donald appalled her, and he seemed so unsuspecting, so guileless. His next words, however, drove the thought from her mind.
“I wish he’d marry. He really needs someone to look after him. I wonder that your sister Alice doesn’t get along with him better. What’s the trouble, anyway? She hardly ever sees him. Why don’t you do more to bring them together?”