"No, no, no, Jean," she said quickly, cutting him off before he completed what he had started to say.
"Well," and he started toward the bank again as if he had not understood her.
"No, no, no, Jean," she repeated, and caught his arm nervously. "No, don't!"
"But you are going away, dear, and will surely need money?" he insisted.
"Yes, but—Jean—Jean—I have money."
"You have money?" repeated the other uncomprehendingly. "But how came you with money? That much money?"
"I—I had—a—check cashed. That is—papa had one cashed for me."
"Oh, so that was it. M-m. Your father had it cashed for you?" he understood then, and his suspicion that the Elder had intended taking her to Chicago without letting him know it was confirmed. They walked down the street toward the depot, and while she held nervously to his arm, his mind was concerned with his thoughts. It occurred to him that he should take his wife back to the claim right then. He felt that if she went to Chicago there would be trouble. He began slowly to appreciate that in dealing with Reverend McCarthy he was not dealing with a man; nor a near man. He was not dealing with a mere liar, or a thief, even—he was dealing with the lowest of all reptiles, a snake! Then why did not he, Jean Baptiste, act?
Perhaps if he had, we should never have had this story to tell. Jean Baptiste did not act. He decided to let her go. Beyond that he had no decision. It seemed that his mind would not work beyond the immediate present. Soon she heard him, as she clung to his arm, allowing her body to rest against his shoulder:
"How much for, Orlean?"