securities that her father
Mwres held in trust for her until she was one-and-twenty.

The rate of interest she paid was of course high, because of the
uncertainty of her security, and the arithmetic of lovers is often
sketchy and optimistic. Yet they had very glorious times after that
return. They determined they would not go to a Pleasure city nor waste
their days rushing through the air from one part of the world to the
other, for in spite of one disillusionment, their tastes were still
old-fashioned. They furnished their little room with quaint old
Victorian furniture, and found a shop on the forty-second floor in
Seventh Way where printed books of the old sort were still to be bought.
It was their pet affectation to read print instead of hearing
phonographs. And when presently there came a sweet little girl, to unite
them further if it were possible, Elizabeth would not send it to a
_creche_, as the custom was, but insisted on nursing it at home. The
rent of their apartments was raised on account of this singular
proceeding, but that they did not mind. It only meant borrowing a little
more.

Presently Elizabeth was of age, and Denton had a business interview with
her father that was not agreeable. An exceedingly disagreeable interview
with their money-lender followed, from which he brought home a white
face. On his return Elizabeth had to tell him of a new and marvellous
intonation of "Goo" that their daughter had devised, but Denton was
inattentive. In the midst, just as she was at the cream of her
description, he interrupted. "How much money do you think we have left,
now that everything is settled?"

She stared and stopped her appreciative swaying of the Goo genius that
had accompanied her description.

"You don't mean...?"

"Yes," he answered. "Ever so much. We have been wild. It's the interest.
Or something. And the shares you had, slumped. Your father did not mind.
Said it was not his business, after what had happened. He's going to
marry again.... Well--we have scarcely a thousand left!"

"Only a thousand?"

"Only a thousand."

And Elizabeth sat down. For a moment she regarded him with a white face,
then her eyes went about the quaint, old-fashioned room, with its middle
Victorian furniture and genuine oleographs, and rested at last on the
little lump of humanity within her arms.

Denton glanced at her and stood downcast. Then he swung round on his
heel and walked up and down very rapidly.

"I m