He nodded. “It's running into regular money. And here we are! Peter has put in three thousand already.”
“Three thousand!”
“More—about thirty-two hundred.”
“But, Jacob, at this rate—”
“What will the whole thing cost? My present estimate is twelve to fifteen thousand.”
Sue flushed with something near anger. “This is new, Jacob! You said three or four thousand.”
He shrugged his shoulders. His face was impassive.
“It was as new to me as to you. The situation is growing. We must grow with it. We've got a big idea. It has all our ideals in it, and it's going to be a practical success, besides. It's going to get across, Sue. We'll all make money. Real money. It'll seem queer.”
Sue, eyes wide, was searching that mask of a face.
“But here's the difficulty. Peter isn't strong enough to swing it. Within another week we'll be past his limit—and we can't stop. He can't stop. Don't you see?”