"More than her allowance? Perhaps not, as that is so liberal."
"Her allowance!" half laughed her husband, not a happy laugh. "It has been, to what she has drawn of me, as a silver coin in a purse of gold."
Grace clasped her hands. "And you let her have it! Did you suspect nothing?"
"Not of this nature. I suspected that she might be buying costly things—after the reckless fashion of Selina Dalrymple. Or else that—forgive me, Grace, I would rather not say more."
"Nay," said Grace, rising to put her hand on his arm and meeting his earnest glance, "let there be entire confidence between us; keep nothing back."
"Well, Grace, I fancied she might be lending it to your mother."
"No, no; my mother has not borrowed from her lately. Oh, how can we save her! This is an insinuating vice that gains upon its votaries, they say, like the eating of opium."
"Your carriage, my lady," interrupted a servant, entering the room. And Grace caught up her mantle.
"Must you go, Grace? It is scarcely eleven."
"Yes. If mamma does not have the carriage to the minute, she won't cease scolding for days, and it must take me home first. Dear Mr. Grubb, turn this over in your mind," she whispered, "and see what you can do. Use your influence with her, and be firm."