His eyes flashed; his nostrils turned white. “You’re going too far, Helen,” he cried.
She did not stir. “I have a right to ask these questions,” she continued, keeping her voice low. “Oh, I know you consider that I can’t understand these things. You acknowledge that you receive thousands of dollars a year from that railroad—five times as much as your salary.”
“I made no such acknowledgment,” Briggs replied, angrily.
“But it’s true; you know it’s true, Douglas. You can’t deny it.”
“I won’t take the trouble to deny it, since you evidently want to believe it.”
“And you know you don’t give the road an hour a day of your time.”
His lips curled. “My dear girl, lawyers aren’t paid by the hour, like your seamstresses.”
“And the railroad’s regular attorney is Mr. West,” Helen went on. “You know that.”
“Well, West does all the dirty work,” he said, with a laugh.
“And what do you do, Douglas?” She hesitated. “Answer me, Douglas—what do you do?”