"You may take the ten dollars," she returned, with a deep sigh. "I will try to get along without it."
"That's not enough. You keep the ten, and I'll take that sixty dollars in the trunk."
"Oh, Andy!"
"There! there! don't make any fuss about it! As soon as I'm settled down somewhere. I'll send it back, and more, too. In the meantime old Brown can wait."
"But he may not be willing to wait."
"He'll have to. Show me where the money is."
"No, no, Andy. Please do not—"
"Shut up, Mary, and give me the money!" he burst out brutally. "I have been here too long already. For all I know, the police are on my track even now."
The poor woman attempted to argue with her husband, but all to no purpose. Andy Gresson was determined to have the money that was up stairs, and at last caught her forcibly by the wrist.
"Now come with me, and give me that money, Mary!" he cried, in a low but intense tone.
"Let me go, Andy!" she cried in sudden terror. Her husband had never been quite so harsh before.
"I will—after I have the money. Haven't I a right to it if I want it? I'm your husband."
"Yes, but, Andy, what will I do? Mr. Brown may foreclose and put me out of the house."
