“And grow well again!” cried Carter. “But you’ll write to me,” he added wistfully, “every day, won’t you?”
In her wrath, Dolly rose, and from across the table confronted him.
“And what will I be doing on those rocks?” she cried. “You KNOW what I’ll be doing! I’ll be sobbing, and sobbing, and calling out to the waves: ‘Why did he send me away? Why doesn’t he want me? Because he doesn’t love me. That’s why! He doesn’t LOVE me!’ And you DON’T!” cried Dolly. “You DON’T!”
It took him all of three minutes to persuade her she was mistaken.
“Very well, then,” sobbed Dolly, “that’s settled. And there’ll be no more talk of sending me away!
“There will NOT!” said Champneys hastily. “We will now,” he announced, “go into committee of the whole and decide how we are to face financial failure. Our assets consist of two stories, accepted, but not paid for, and fifteen stories not accepted.” In cash, he spread upon the table a meagre collection of soiled bills and coins. “We have twenty-seven dollars and fourteen cents. That is every penny we possess in the world.”
Dolly regarded him fixedly and shook her head.
“Is it wicked,” she asked, “to love you so?”
“Haven’t you been listening to me?” demanded Carter.
Again Dolly shook her head.