"Oh, I should say so. Why, Laura, I think, honestly, I think wheat went down to--oh, way down. They say that means so much to Mr. Jadwin, and it went down, down, down. It looked that way to me. Don't that mean that he'll lose a great deal of money? And Landry seemed so brave and courageous through it all. Oh, I felt for him so; I just wanted to go right into the Pit with him and stand by his shoulder." Laura started up with a sharp gesture of impatience and exasperation, crying: "Oh, what do I care about wheat--about this wretched scrambling for money. Curtis was busy, you say? He looked that way?" Page nodded: "Everybody was," she said. Then she hazarded: "I wouldn't worry, Laura. Of course, a man must give a great deal of time to his business. I didn't mind when Landry couldn't come home with me." "Oh--Landry," murmured Laura. On the instant Page bridled, her eyes snapping. "I think that was very uncalled for," she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright, "and I can tell you this, Laura Jadwin, if you did care a little more about wheat--about your husband's business--if you had taken more of an interest in his work, if you had tried to enter more into his life, and be a help to him--and--and sympathise--and--" Page caught her breath, a little bewildered at her own vehemence and audacity. But she had committed herself now; recklessly she plunged on. "Just think; he may be fighting the battle of his life down there in La Salle Street, and you don't know anything about it--no, nor want to know. 'What do you care about wheat,' that's what you said. Well, I don't care either, just for the wheat itself, but it's Landry's business, his work; and right or wrong--" Page jumped to her feet, her fists tight shut, her face scarlet, her head upraised, "right or wrong, good or bad, I'd put my two hands into the fire to help him." "What business--" began Laura; but Page was not to be interrupted. "And if he did leave me alone sometimes," she said; "do you think I would draw a long face, and think only of my own troubles. I guess he's got his own troubles too. If my husband had a battle to fight, do you think I'd mope and pine because he left me at home; no I wouldn't. I'd help him buckle his sword on, and when he came back to me I wouldn't tell him how lonesome I'd been, but I'd take care of him and cry over his wounds, and tell him to be brave--and--and--and I'd help him." And with the words, Page, the tears in her eyes and the sobs in her throat, flung out of the room, shutting the door violently behind her.