He took her hand and held it over his heart.
“Gold, gold, gold, what a task-master art thou!”
“Is not the tale nearly ended?”
“No, not yet. This sensational stuff baffles me; I cannot force the vulgar speed enough. It is not easy to prostitute one’s art to fill the public maw. I wish to Heaven we could hear from Garfield.”
She sighed slightly; her arm quivered beneath his head and her eyes grew wistful.
“How much misery I have brought to you!” she said.
“Misery!”
“Shame and hunger.”
“Joan!”
He turned in his chair, drew her into his arms so that her head rested on his shoulder as she kneeled beside him. Her hair threaded his black coat with gold.