He again faced her with alien, accusing eyes. "When will you try this again?"
"To-night, when you come home."
"Home!" he sneered, looking about. "Do you expect me to call this place home? Do you expect me to hang about this scrubby hole to be disciplined by your Voices?"
The sound of a knock at the door gave her a moment's respite. "The postman," she explained as she rose to go to the door.
She was gone for several minutes and Victor heard her in friendly conversation with a pleasant male voice. Some way this added to his anger and disgust.
She came back with a letter in her hand which she began at once to open. "It is from Louise, I mean Mrs. Joyce."
She read it through with smiling face, then said, "Victor, you must be nice to Louise, she has done everything for us."
This brought him to his feet. "I understand all that now. It is her money I've been living on—I won't touch another cent that comes from her. Understand that! I won't eat another dinner that she pays for."
"Why, Victor, you should not feel that way! What has she done to make you bitter?"
"Nothing. I refuse to live on her charity, that's all, and I want you to find out just how much I owe her—how much you owe her—for I intend to pay her back every dollar with interest."