From his study he could hear their voices growing steadily more intense.

Was it all about work?
He could not tell.

"They've got working and living so mixed up, a man can't possibly tell 'em apart." Then his daughter was called to the telephone, and Allan came in to bid Roger good-night.

And his eyes showed an impatience he did not seem to care to hide.
"Well ?" inquired Roger.

"Did you get Deborah's consent ?" "To what ?" asked Allan sharply.
"To your acceptance," Roger answered, "of the widow's mite." Baird grinned.
"She couldn't help herself," he said.
"But she didn't seem to like it, eh--" "No," said Baird, "she didn't." Roger had a dark suspicion.
"By the way," he asked in a casual tone, "what's this philanthropic widow like ?" "She's sixty-nine," Baird answered.
"Oh," said Roger.