"Two hundred would be enough. But I can't--I can't."
"I'll write to Mr. Brereton to-morrow and ask him to sell out two hundred for myself, and tell him I want the money for a private purpose of my own. Take down your hand, dear, and let us go on with the accounts. I have looked over the list and the remarks." She cared nothing for the accounts, but she wanted the husband whom she loved to be his old self again.
He took down his hand and pressed hers, and stroked her smooth hair.
"I am sorry and ashamed," he said, "but I am awfully hard pressed, and you have delivered me."
"Let us go on with the list now, William, and say no more of this matter. Give me the list."
He handed her the papers without a word. Before sitting down he bent over and patted her hair and kissed her forehead.
"I know nearly all the names," she said, "but, of course, I have never seen any of the people."
"You have not missed much by that, Nellie," he said in tremulous tones, as though rendered almost tearful by her generosity. "They are a rough lot."
At the same time he was thinking how much more delightful it would be to have Hetty Layard, with all her buoyant youth, sitting by his side than this faded elderly invalid. But then Hetty had no money. A man ought to be allowed two wives: one with money, who need not be young or beautiful, and one with beauty, who need not be rich.
Mrs. Crawford ran her finger down the names of her tenants, and the houses which were tenantless, commenting as she went, and trying to make her own remarks bear out his theory that the tenants did not pay because they were not sure he was her husband.