"Real estate is the only subject I would trust him on," she continued. "I must say, Dave, that for a shrewd business man you are awfully dense about Conward."
He remained silent for a few moments. He decided not to follow her lead. He knew that if she had anything explicit to say about Conward she would say it when she felt the time to be opportune, and not until then. He returned to the matter of her speculation.
"How much did you invest?"
"Not much. Just what I had."
"You mean all your savings?"
"Why not? It's all right, isn't it?"
He had risen and was standing again by the window. The long line of lights stretched out until they became mere diamond points on the velvet bosom of the night. Motor cars sped noiselessly to and fro, save where, at the corner below, chauffeurs exercised their sirens. But neither the lights, nor the night, nor the movement and noises of the street had any part in the young man's consciousness.
"It's all right, isn't it?" she repeated.
"I'm afraid it isn't," he said at length, in a restrained voice. "I'm afraid it isn't."
"What do you mean?" she demanded. There was an accusation in her eyes that was hard to face.