“Eighteen hundred a year.”
“Well, I dare say he was just as happy on that as we are on——” He stopped, looking at her with an expression in his eyes that she had never seen there before.
“On what?” she asked, quietly.
“On what we spend,” he replied.
“The ball we gave last night must have cost at least eighteen hundred,” Helen persisted.
“Well, I guess we’re good for it,” Briggs replied, complacently.
Helen lost control of herself. “That’s what I can’t understand,” she cried, excitedly. “How are we good for it?”
Douglas Briggs rose and walked slowly toward his wife. He laid his hand gently on her shoulder. “My dear child, that’s not a nice way to speak to your husband!”
“Please don’t call me your dear child again, Douglas. Now, I have a reason for asking these questions, and I want you to give me direct answers.”
Briggs let his hand drop. Helen rose and walked to the edge of the desk.