The vehement question startled her.
"I never said that, Theo—and it isn't true. Only—I do hate the ugliness and the heat, and September's the loveliest month of all up here."
"Doesn't it make things any easier to feel you are helping the Boy by giving up these few weeks of enjoyment?"
"No—it doesn't. Not a bit."
Desmond frowned.
"Try and fancy yourself in a strait like that, Evelyn, and the thundering relief it would be to get out of it."
His words stabbed her unwittingly.
"I'm not good at fancying things, and I'm not good at cutting down expenses either—I was never taught. I hope you don't do these uncomfortable sort of things often, Theo. It seems to me you're too much inclined to rush in and help people without stopping to think of—of other people at all! It would have been much better for the Boy if you'd left him to get clear of his muddle, instead of upsetting every one by spending money on him that you can't really spare."
Her husband leaned farther back into the shadow, his mouth hardened to a rigid line. All that he chose to say on the subject had been said.