"That'll be all right," said Fanny, and then again she gave him that curious, considering look.
Germaine pulled himself together. "You'll think I've been a fool," he exclaimed abruptly,—he had to say something in answer to that look,—"and so I have. But you know—at least you don't know, luckily for you—what it's like to be mixed up with a lot of fellows who are all richer than one is oneself;" and then in a very different tone, one in which his sister felt the ring of truth, "Are you sure Dick won't know, Fanny? I don't want Dick to know."
"Of course he won't know," Fanny smiled. "You don't suppose I tell Dick everything?"
Oliver stared at his sister. He was rather shocked by her admission; till to-day he had thought that all husbands and wives who loved one another told each other everything; and yet, here was Fanny, who hadn't a thought in the world beyond Dick, the children, the dogs—and, and, yes, her brother——
"It's none of Dick's business what I choose to do with my own money—not that he'd mind."
"I think of spreading the re-payment over five years."
"That would be rather too soon," she said; and added, looking away as she spoke, "I don't think it would be fair to Bella."
Oliver reddened, a man's dusky unbecoming blush.
"Bella's been good about it," he said briefly. "She said herself that we should have to go and live in the country. Still, let's make it seven years. I say, Fanny, you are a brick," and sitting down by the table, Oliver Germaine broke into hard, painful sobs.
Fanny got up off the sofa. She felt rather shy.