would be like." Anger--yes, and even hate--were unmistakable in
that moment. She sat up sharply. "And, David, you've got to do
something to change it. I'm tired of it all--sick and tired of
scrimping and worrying and wearing made-over dresses and being--just
shabby genteel. You've got to do something."

Every word was a knife in his heart. But he could not be angry with
her; he was thinking of her disappointment.

"But, dear, I'm doing all I can. How can I--"

"You can get a position somewhere and at least have a steady income
that would--"

"Why, Shirley, you don't mean--give up my profession? You _couldn't_
mean that!"

"I mean just that. It would give us a steady income at least."

"But I can't give it up. There's more than money to working. There's
being in the work you want to do and are fitted for--"

"Ah!" She turned on him fiercely. "I thought you cared more for your
work than for your family. Now I know it. You would keep us poor,
just so you can do the things you like to do. And what right have you
to think you're fitted for it? Why can't you be sensible and see what
everybody else sees--that as an architect you are--"

"Shirley!"

But she said it.

"--a failure."

For a little he stared blindly at her. All other aches were as nothing
beside this. . . . Then something within, that had sustained him since
he left the office, snapped, gave way. His head and shoulders sagged
forward. With a weary gesture he turned and went into the living-room.

That storm, too, passed. It had been more than half the hysteria of
shattered hope. She had hardly known what she was saying. Now she
remembered his eyes as she had dealt her thrust. She was a little
frightened at what she had done. She waited nervously for him to come
back to her; always David had been first to mend their quarrels, and
Shirley thought her kisses balm to heal all wounds.

But he did not come back. In the living-room was a heavy silence.

At last she went softly to the door. He was standing by the table,
still in the broken attitude, with the same dazed eyes. He did not see
her.

"David!"

He did not seem to hear. She went to him and put an arm around his
shoulder.

"David, I didn't mean to be nasty. It really isn't your fault. I
didn't mean--"

The sound of her voice brought him out of his daze. He shrank from her
touch and, turning, regarded her with a queer new look that held her
from him. Afte