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 isn't so firmly fixed as I supposed." After a moment's pause, in which his growing seriousness changed the atmosphere, he went on, haltingly, uncertain of his position: "The nicest thing about having all this money is that—that—we won't have to deny ourselves anything after this." It did not sound very tactful, now that it was out, and he was compelled to scrutinize rather intently a familiar portrait in order to maintain an air of careless assurance. She did not respond to this venture, but he felt that she was looking directly into his sorely-tried brain. "We'll do any amount of decorating about the house and—and you know that furnace has been giving us a lot of trouble for two or three years—" he was pouring out ruthlessly, when her hand fell gently on his own and she stood straight and tall before him, an odd look in her eyes.

"Don't—please don't go on, Monty," she said very gently but without wavering. "I know what you mean. You are good and very thoughtful, Monty, but you really must not."

"Why, what's mine is yours—" he began.

"I know you are generous, Monty, and I know you have a heart. You want us to—to take some of your money,"—it was not easy to say it, and as for Monty, he could only look at