The intonation was subtle. A moment's bewilderment, and he burst out, "You're not doing this because you—have to?"
"That—or something."
"But—but—Good Lord, child! Where is your money?"
With pomp and ceremony—but languidly withal, for her head was beginning to ache, and she wanted desperately to cry—she laid her purse in his hand. But she did not look at him.
The big hand closed over the flat little thing impatiently.
"I am referring to your bank account."
"And by what right——"
"We'll settle that later. The banks have opened up again——"
"That's all I have."
"But what has become—You're not going to faint?"