He stopped, figuring up mentally just what they had to live on. “How much rent do you pay?” he continued.
“Twelve dollars.”
“How old is your mother?”
“She’s nearly fifty now.”
He turned a fork in his hands back and forth; he was thinking earnestly.
“To tell you the honest truth, I fancied it was something like that, Jennie,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Now, I know. There’s only one answer to your problem, and it isn’t such a bad one, if you’ll only believe me.” He paused for an inquiry, but she made none. Her mind was running on her own difficulties.
“Don’t you want to know?” he inquired.
“Yes,” she answered mechanically.
“It’s me,” he replied. “You have to let me help you. I wanted to last time. Now you have to; do you hear?”
“I thought I wouldn’t,” she said simply.