"It's all names, I acknowledge," she soothed, "just names, I attach no more weight to them than you do. Don't you suppose I'd have said something if I had thought you were doing anything wrong? But that's the way they play the game, and it is their game. If we play it we've got to accept their rules. Don't you see?" "Well, it's a mighty poor game," grumbled Sherwood, "and they strike me as an exceptionally stupid lot of women. They'd drive me to drink. I don't see what you want to bother with them for." "They are," she agreed. "They won't amuse me much--you couldn't understand--it's just the _idea_ of it--But I won't be looked down on, even by my inferiors! Tell me, Jack, when we sell the business are we going to be wealthy, will we have plenty of money?" A hurt look came into his fine, straightforward eyes. "Haven't you always had all you wanted, Patsy?" he inquired. "Of course I have, you old goose! But I want to know what our resources are before I plan my campaign." "Going in up to your neck, are you?" he commented ruefully. She nodded. Her eyes were bright, and a spot of colour glowed in either cheek. "Course I am. What can I spend?" "You can have whatever you want." "That's too vague, too indefinite. How rich--or poor--are we going to be?" "We'll be rich enough." "Very?" "Well--yes, very. The business has paid, investments have panned out. I got a good cash purchase price." "How much can I spend a year?" she persisted. "It doesn't matter whether it's much or little, but I want to know." "What a mercenary little creature!" he cried facetiously, then sobered as he saw by the expression of her face that this, apparently trivial thing meant a great deal to her. "Oh, fifty thousand or so won't cripple us." "A year?" she breathed, awed. He nodded. "Oh!" she cried rapidly. "Then we'll have a house--a house built for our very own selves, our very own plans!" "Why, I thought we were very comfortable here!" he protested, a little dismayed. "Haven't we room enough? I'll make Rebinot cut a door----" "No! no! no! a house of my own!" She was on fire with excitement, walking restlessly up and down. He watched her a moment or so. His slower imagination was kindling. He was beginning to grasp the symbolism of it, what it meant to her, the release of long-pent secret desires. As she passed him, he seized her and drew her gently to his knee. "Patsy!" he cried contritely, "I didn't realize! I didn't guess you weren't perfectly contented here!" She brushed his cheek with hers. "Of course you didn't," she reassured him. "If you'd the slightest----" She threw her head back proudly, her breast swelled. "I married you to lead your life. Jack, whatever it was," she told him, "to be your _help_mate." "You're the game little sportsman in this town!" he cried. "And if you want to make those flub-dubs crawl, by God you sail in! I'll back you!" Ten minutes later she asked him: