“Have we, Ju-ju?” asked the girl, caressingly stroking Jones’ head.
“Yes,” said Jones.
“I’m sure,” went on Venetia with a sigh, “I have always done my best to keep things together. I failed. Was it my fault?”
“No,” said Teresa, aching for her to be gone. “I am sure it was not.”
“I am glad to hear you say that. I always tried to avoid interfering in your life. I never did—or only when ordinary prudence made me speak, as for instance, in that baccarat business.”
“Don’t rake up old things,” said Teresa suddenly.
“And the Williamson affair,” got in Venetia. “Oh, I am the very last to rake up things, as you call it. I, for one, will say no more of things that have happened, but I must speak of things that affect myself.”
“What is affecting you?”
“Just this. You know quite well the financial position. You know what the upkeep of this house means. You can’t do it. You plainly can’t do it. Your income is not sufficient.”
“But how does that affect you?”