“Do you think Bill cares about money alone?”

“Why, yes!”

“That’s funny.”  But Joe’s laugh was grim.  “If Bill had had his way with me, I’d have had a name as an architect that would have been known all over the country—­instead of being what I am, a gambler in cheap real estate.”

She questioned him further, her manner alert, her eyes with a startled, thoughtful look.  But he did not seem to want to talk.

“Then why,” she asked herself in a daze, “if Bill is so against this business, does he keep at it day and night?  Oh, yes, we’ll have to look into this—­as soon as I get back to town!  You’ve got to come and see me, and explain yourself, friend Bill.”  She frowned in such a puzzled way.  “You, a friend?  How funny!”

CHAPTER XVI

The week after Ethel’s return to town, she was surprised one afternoon when in response to a note she had sent him her husband’s partner came to see her.  She had thought it would be more difficult.

“Joe won’t interrupt us,” he said.  “I put work in his way.  He’ll be home late.”

Tall, gaunt and angular, somewhat stooped, Nourse stood looking down at her; and as, perplexed and excited, Ethel scanned his visage, so heavy in spite of its narrow lines, she saw an expression in which contempt was tempered by a sort of regret and weariness.  And of course he was awkward, too.  She said to herself, “Be careful now.”

“Won’t you sit down?” she asked him.

“Thank you.”  And he took a seat.

“I wanted to see you,” she began, but Nourse interrupted her.

“Would you object,” he asked her, “if I do the talking for a while?  I’ve got it fairly clear in mind, just what I want to say to you.”

“Why, yes, of course, if you prefer,” she said, a little breathlessly.

“Well, Mrs. Lanier, I think I know about what you want—­and I’m here to say that I’ll help you to get it—­if in return you will leave us alone.”  He stopped for a moment, and went on:  “In the last few months, it has seemed to me, you’ve been doing your best to bring on a clash between me and your husband.  Every week in the office is worse than the last.  I don’t blame you for that, from your point of view.  You felt I was trying to make him eat and sleep in his office.  I was—­and I am.  But my point to you is that it won’t be for long, and I’m doing this really on your account—­to get money enough to satisfy you.”  She looked up in a startled way, but he went on unheeding.  “You and I must understand each other.  Tell me how much you really need—­and we’ll get it, Joe and I. And then I’ll give him back to you nights—­and in the daytime you leave him to me.”

He glanced at her with a weary dislike which gave her an impulse to say to him, “Isn’t this rather insulting?” But she did not speak.  For looking at him sharply, she caught in the man’s heavy eyes a certain grim, deep wistfulness which drew her a little in spite of his speech.  And she felt very curious, too.