“I do, dear, terribly,” she said sadly. “I have been asked a great deal lately for payments of bills; and if you could let me have some this morning—”
“Then I cannot; it’s impossible. There, wait a few days and the crisis will be over, and you can clear off.”
“And you will not speculate again, dear?” she said eagerly.
“Oh, no, of course not,” he rejoined, with the touch of sarcasm in his voice.
“We should be so much happier, dear, on your salary. I would make it plenty for us; and then, Robert, you would be so much more at peace.”
“How can I be at peace?” he cried savagely, “when, just as I am harassed with monetary cares—which you cannot understand—I find my home, instead of a place of rest, a place of torment?”
“Robert!” she said, in a tone of tender reproach.
“People here I don’t want to see; servants pestering me for money, when I have given you ample for our household expenses; and my own child set against me, ready to shrink from me, and look upon me as some domestic ogre!”
“Robert, dear, pray do not talk like this.”
“I am driven to it,” he cried fiercely; “the child detests me!”