“And selling things out of the stable to get enough to pay my damned bills. I understand now about the harness. What—what did that money go for?”
“It was needed, Phil.”
“But what for? For me? Did you send it to me?” he demanded.
“I—I don’t remember now, dear. What does it matter?”
“Don’t lie, please, Margey. Did you send it to me?”
“Phil!... Yes, dear, I did. You needed money. We had none in the house and mamma could not get any for a week or more. So—there was that old harness, Phil, and—surely, that was better than borrowing from—any one?”
“Mamma couldn’t get any for a week! Then—then it was to pay—you sold the harness to get money to pay my poker debts?”
“Does it matter, dear?”
“Matter? No, I reckon not; it’s of a piece with the rest of it all.” He was silent a minute. Then: