"You know why I'm doin' this, Sarah," he said. "Now don't you—honest?"
Mrs. Macomber hesitated. "Why, Sears," she faltered reluctantly, "I—I suppose I can guess why you think you're doin' it. But that doesn't make it right for you to do it, really."
"Oh, yes, it does. Be sensible, Sarah. Here are you with six children to support and work for, not to mention one boarder and—a husband. The house is crowded, aloft and alow. There isn't a bit of room for me."
"Now, Sears, how can you talk so? You've had room here, haven't you?"
"Yes, I've had it, plenty of it. But how much room have the rest of you had?"
"Why—why, we've had enough. Nobody's complained that I know of."
"Good reason why. You wouldn't let 'em, Sarah. And of course you never would complain yourself. But that is only part of it. The real thing is that I will not live on you."
"But you pay board."
"Stuff and nonsense! How much do I pay in comparison with what it costs to keep me?"
"You pay me all you can afford, I'm sure; and I rather guess, from what you said about your money affairs the other day, that you pay me more than you ought to afford. And I don't believe you're goin' to pay that Judah Cahoon any high board for livin' in that old rats' nest of his. If you are I shall begin to believe you've gone crazy."