There was, however, uneasiness in her face; her fingers slightly trembled on the linen she was holding.
"You're home early, John," she said in a gentle, reserved voice.
He twisted a shoulder.

"Yes, I'm home early," he snapped.

"Your boy Fabian has left the business, and I've bought his share." He named the sum.

"Ghastly, ain't it?
But he's gone, and there's no more about it.
It's a bad thing to marry a woman that can't play fair." He noted the excessive paleness of his wife's face; the bright eyes stared and stared, and the lips trembled.

"Fabian--Fabian gone!" she said brokenly.
"Yes, and he ain't coming back." "What's he going to do ?" she asked in a bitter voice.
"Join Belloc--fight his own father--try to do me in the race," growled the old man.
"Who told you that ?" "Junia, she told me." "What does she know about it?
Who told her that ?" asked the woman with faded lips.
"She always had sense, that child.