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. I wish she was a man."

He suddenly ground his heel, and there was distemper in face and voice;
his shoulders hunched; his hands were thrust down in his pockets. He
wheeled on her. "Where's your other boy? Where's Carnac?"

The woman pointed to the lawn. "He's catching a bit of the city from the
hill just beyond the pear-tree."

"Painting, eh? I heard he was here. I want to talk to him."