“Got a new landlord.”
Ha! they were coming to it now. He held himself tensely. “Old Whatmore gone up the spout or something?” He remembered that some time back there had been rumors of an impending bankruptcy on the part of Whatmore the builder.
“No, Whatmore’s all right, but he’s sold this shop and the whole row with it.”
“Sold it, eh?” His excitement was so great that in spite of a cool military air it was impossible to disguise it. All the same she waited for him to ask the all-important question, but he was slow to do so.
“Who’s bought it?” he said at last.
“Father’s bought it.” She did her best to speak quite casually, but she didn’t succeed.
XX
IT was a knife. Yet it had not dealt exactly the kind of blow that he had looked for. Even if the stab was softer, and of that at the moment he was not quite sure, undoubtedly there was poison in the wound. In a flash he saw that, somehow, it had strengthened her position and weakened his. “You never told me he’d bought the business.” The tone was a confession of impotence.