Even though you hated my
money, and I hated your gambling--your betting on horses. You used to
love me--I was sure you did then. Don't you love me now, Shiel?"
A gloomy look passed over his face. Memory of other days was admonishing
him. "What is the good of one loving when the other doesn't? And,
anyhow, I made up my mind five years ago that I would not live on my
wife. I haven't done so, and I don't mean to 'do so. I don't mean to
take a penny of your money. I should curse it to damnation if I was
living on it. I'm not, and I don't mean to do so."
"Then I'll stay here and work too, without it," she urged, with a light
in her eyes which they had never known.
He laughed mirthlessly. "What could you do--you never did a day's work
in your life!"
"You could teach me how, Shiel."
His jaw jerked in a way it had when he was incredulous. "You used to say
I was only--mark you, only a dreamer and a sportsman. Well, I'm no
longer a dreamer and a sportsman; I'm a practical man. I've done with
dreaming and sportsmanship. I can look at a situation as it is, and--"
"You are dreaming--but yes, you are dreaming still," she interjected.
"And you are a sportsman still, but it is the sport of a dreamer, and a
mad dreamer too.
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