“Oh, but Helen, our privacy—our privacy—” he pleaded.
“I know. But we shall appreciate it all the more when”—she smiled faintly—“when we’ve earned it.”
He sighed heavily. “Well, we haven’t had much privacy in the last few years, have we? It’s almost as if we’d been living in the public square,” he added bitterly.
They agreed not to discuss the matter again for a few hours. “If you like you can take a week or so to think it over,” said Briggs, and from his tone his wife knew that he wished her to agree.
“It seems too good a chance to lose,” she said. “And the girls are nice girls, too,” she went on, to encourage him.
He made a wry face, and walked over and kissed her. “Let us not decide for a few days anyway.”
Nevertheless, as he went down town that day Douglas Briggs felt more encouraged than he had been for many months.
At any rate, Burrell would put him in the way of having a little money; during the past few weeks he had been so straitened that he hardly knew where to turn. He considered himself reduced to an extremity when he began seriously to think of appealing to his wife. He was glad to be able to assure himself it was not pride that made the thought of appealing to her distressing; it was the fear that she should be worried by discovering he was so harassed; like a woman, the solution would seem to her far more serious than it really was. Even now, he told himself that he must be careful in talking over the taking into the family of the two girls; he must not let her realize what an immense help the money would be to them.
That night when he returned home, he found Helen already dressed for dinner. He noticed that she looked unusually happy.
“Douglas,” she said.