'It is true, Kirke! Her extravagance has ruined my credit at home, and forced me to use Joe's indorsements; besides, I have had to borrow ten thousand dollars of him to keep my head above water.'
[Mr. James Preston—the Squire's uncle—had died the year before, and the young man had succeeded to his large property and business.]
I was thunderstruck; but, before I could reply, Joe said:
'I don't care a rush for the money. Father can have every dollar I've got; but I do want to see him rid of that woman. I've been here sick for two months, and I've seen the whole. She is worrying the very life out of him. She's made him an old man at forty.'
It was true. His face was lean and haggard, and his hair already thickly streaked with white.
Preston rose, and, walking the room, said:
'But what am I to do? You yourself, Joe, would not have all this made public. You've as much pride about it as I have.'
'I've not a bit of pride about it, father; and it's public now. Everybody knows it, and everybody says you ought to cut her adrift.'
'What had I better do? Tell me, my friend,' said Preston, still walking the room.
'I cannot advise, you, Preston. An outsider should express no opinion on such matters.'