creditors the hole in the ground into which so far most of his work had
gone. "Bibi dear, what a sorry end to all my plans!" was what she expected
him to say. And what he did say and what he didn't, met surprised in her
mind and surveyed each other.

"Oh, Guy!" she deprecated, suddenly ashamed. For the first time it occurred
to her to wonder why this had been sent on _him_. With a rush of remorseful
sympathy and appreciation, she slipped down beside his chair. "My poor old
boy!"

He clung to her like a drowning man--Guy, who, after the first single cry
at the blow, had been so self-contained (or self-repressed?) through it
all!

She remembered that she had omitted a good many things lately.

"You're tired to-day," he said.

"Yes, I am." She caught at it hurriedly with apologetic self-defence. "I'm
pretty constantly tired lately. And this morning Mrs. Grey was so trying.
She doesn't understand her machine, and she doesn't understand business,
and she was _too_ silly and stupid. I don't wonder you men laugh at us and
don't want us in _your_ affairs!"

"It's all hard on you, Bibi." There was a lump in his voice. It was the
first time he had been able to speak of it.

"Yes;" her own throat was so strained that for a moment she could not go
on. "But," it struck her again, "I don't suppose an unbiased observer would
think it exactly festive for you."