To Lois, an intelligent and practical woman, the possession of money meant the opportunity to buy; the possession of yet more money would mean more opportunity to buy. To Justin, on the other hand, it meant the ability to pay; the comfort of being able to accede, with ease and promptness, to the demands upon him. Like most American husbands in his station, the sum spent upon house and family far exceeded in ratio his own personal expenses. There were a few luxuries which he casually looked forward to enjoying, but beyond this money represented to him pre-eminently further business possibilities, the power to play competently in the great game, with the result of a sufficient provision for his wife and children in case of his death. His heart leaped now at the thought of taking a front rank among the players. If in this next year——
“Do you think I had better buy the new rug when I go to town Friday, or wait until next month?” asked Lois suddenly.
“You had better wait,” said Justin, with decision. He rose, and added: “You must go to bed, Lois.”
She rose also, in obedience, and he kissed her officially.
“Good night.”
“You are not going to sit up later!”
“Just a minute. I want to light the candle and look for something in this paper I forgot to notice earlier.”
He loved his wife, but felt, without owning it, that he must stay for a brief space beyond the sound of her voice.
“Now, don’t wait another moment, or you’ll get cold.” He spoke authoritatively. “The fire’s almost out.”
He had already turned from her, and was sitting down by the dim flicker of the newly lighted candle, absorbed once more in figures, with the newspaper before him. The midnight hour had failed of its inspiration; both experienced the spiritual dearth and fatigue which follows time-worn and trivial conversation.