but he remembered Mr. Tallant's presence in
time. "Nothing's worrying you, Hugh?" he added, as we went out, followed
by the glances of his employees.

"Nothing," I said....

XVIX.

Making money in those days was so ridiculously easy! The trouble was to
know how to spend it. One evening when I got home I told Maude I had a
surprise for her.

"A surprise?" she asked, looking up from a little pink smock she was
making for Chickabiddy.

"I've bought that lot on Grant Avenue, next to the Ogilvys'."

She dropped her sewing, and stared at me.

"Aren't you pleased?" I asked. "At last we are going to have a house of
our very own. What's the matter?"

"I can't bear the thought of leaving here. I'm so used to it. I've grown
to love it. It's part of me."

"But," I exclaimed, a little exasperated, "you didn't expect to live
here always, did you? The house has been too small for us for years.
I thought you'd be delighted." (This was not strictly true, for I had
rather expected some such action on her part.) "Most women would. Of
course, if it's going to make such a difference to you as that, I'll
sell the lot. That won't be difficult."

I got up, and started to go into my study. She half rose, and her sewing
fell to the floor.

"Oh, why are we always having misunderstandings? Do sit down a minute,
Hugh. Don't think I'm not appreciative," she pleaded. "It was--such a
shock."

I sat down rather reluctantly.

"I can't express what I think," she continued, rather breathlessly, "but
sometimes I'm actually frightened, we're going through life so fast in
these days, and it doesn't seem as if we were getting the real things
out of it. I'm afraid of your success, and of all the money you're
making."

I smiled.

"I'm not so rich yet, as riches go in these days, that you need be
alarmed," I said.

She looked at me helplessly a moment.

"I feel that it isn't--right, somehow, that you'll pay for it, that
we'll pay for it. Goodness knows, we have everything we want, and more
too. This house--this house is real, and I'm afraid that won't be a
home, won't be real. That we'll be overwhelmed with--with things!"...

She was interrupted by the entrance of the children. But after dinner,
when she had seen them to bed, as was her custom, she came downstairs
into my study and said quietly:--"I was wrong, Hugh. If you want to
build a house, if you feel that you'd be happier, I have no right to
object. Of course my sentiment