“And the book?”
“Fifty cents.”
“The ring on your finger?”
“Fifty dollars.”
“That is eighty-three dollars and fifty cents. And you and Judy expect to live on five hundred.” Throwing the empty confectionery box into the fire, he rose as if, in intense disapproval of her plans for the future, he could no longer stay with her.
Mrs. Colonibel was in a state bordering on hysterics. “What shall I do, Brian?” she gasped, holding him convulsively.
“Mend your ways and increase your graces,” succinctly. “Stop nagging Stanton, or he’ll turn you out of the house before you’re a twelvemonth older. Treat ma’m’selle decently, and follow Stanton’s lead in everything. He is your employer. He doesn’t love you overmuch, but he’ll not be a hard one. Good-bye.” And gently pulling his coat from her quivering hand, he sauntered from the room, muttering to himself, “Medicine’s bitter, but it’s better for her to take it.”
Going on his way down the staircase he crossed the lower hall and looked into the drawing room. Its only occupant was Valentine, who lay stretched out at length on a sofa reading a book which he closed when he saw Camperdown.
“Beastly cold day, isn’t it?” he asked, putting his hands under his handsome, graceless head to prop it still higher.
“Depends upon your standpoint,” said Camperdown drily. “Where’s Stanton?”