"That can make no difference now," she answered quietly. "The disgrace cannot be helped." "What rot!" he sneered. "You make me out a thief at once. Suppose you look at what some of your acquaintances do,--the good, rich people in this town,--and find out how they make their money. Ask people how Silas Stewart gets his rebates from the railroads. Ask any one about the way Strauss grades his wheat." "I don't want to know," she interrupted sadly. "That has nothing to do with this matter." He left her impatiently. They did not reopen the sore that evening, nor the next day. Her face was set and stern, with a kind of dreary purpose in it, which made him unhappy. He went out of the city on business, and did not return for several days. When he came home no mention was made of his absence, and for another week they lived silently. The night before the children were to return from their vacation with their grandmother, while husband and wife lay awake, each troubled by the common thought, she spoke again. "Francis," she said firmly, "we can't go on like this. The boys are coming home to-morrow. They mustn't see us living this way. And it's bad for you, Francis, and I can't stand it! I have been thinking it over. I must go away with the boys. I shall go to uncle Powers's house in Vernon Falls." "You are going to leave me and take the children with you because you think I am in trouble," he said accusingly. "You know that isn't true. If you will only meet this trouble honorably, like the man I loved and married, I will stay, and be with you always, no matter what comes. Will you?" "So you want to make conditions?" "Just one." "You had better go, then." She turned her face to her pillow and wept in the dreary realization that she could touch him in no way. The next day she telephoned her mother to come to her, and when Mrs. Spellman arrived, she said quietly:-- "Mother, I am going to Vermont, to the farm. It may be for a long time. Will you come with me and the boys?" Mrs. Spellman, who was a wise woman, took her daughter's face between her hands and kissed her. "Of course," she answered simply. That day they made the necessary preparations for themselves and the children. When the architect returned from his office and saw what was going forward, he said to his wife:-- "So you are determined to leave me?" "Yes, I must go unless--" "I have seen Everett. They aren't going to do anything. I told you it was all bluff on Pemberton's part." She hesitated, uncertain what to think, and then she asked searchingly:-- "Why aren't they going to do anything? What does it mean?" "Oh, I guess the others have brought Pemberton to his senses," he replied evasively. "At any rate, it's blown over, as I told you it would."