mentioned before," he said, and coughed; "but. . . ."
"Yes?"
"You could raise money on your expectations," he said.
"Could I?" she said eagerly.
"Of course you could. What a child you are!"
She stood up, and her face was bright. "Why did you not tell me before?" she asked. "And all this time we have been here!"
He looked at her for a moment, and smiled. Then the smile vanished. "I thought it ought to come from you," he said. "I didn't like to ask for your money. And besides—at first I thought this would be rather fine."
There was a pause.
"It has been fine," he said; and glanced once more over his shoulder. "Until all this began."
"Yes," she said," "those first days. The first three days."
They looked for a space into one another's faces, and then Denton slid down from the wall and took her hand.
"To each generation," he said, "the life of its time. I see it all plainly now. In the city—that is the life to which we were born. To live in any
