"Well, wait till I've had my breakfast, will you?"
"Sure."
"Would you like something?"
"No, I've eaten."
"All right. I won't be long."
She sailed into the dining-room and took her place at the head of the table. Nellie came to her at once and they smiled at each other with strangely intimate and understanding smiles. Hubert thought that it was no wonder that Nellie was fresh. Helen treated her as though she was an equal.
"Fried eggs, Mrs. Scott?"
"No, poached, please."
"Yes, Mrs. Scott."
All through Helen's breakfast Hubert bit his nails and kept repeating to himself the points which must be driven home when he made his request. Five thousand dollars. Great investment. Why, one of the Wall Street men told me— Helen would fall for that Wall Street business. Well, it wasn't any of her affair if he didn't invest in anything. He'd give her her five thousand dollars back some day soon. Great investment. Five thousand dollars. Why, one of the Wall Street men told me— Cripes, the way she did things was sickening. Colored table linen and glass breakfast dishes. Who did she think she was, to throw money around like that? Probably had those fool colored sheets on her bed, too. White sheets had been good enough for his mother. Five thousand dollars. Great investment. Why, one of the Wall Street men told me—
