"But, Philip," she said, "you ought to have consulted me. You mustn't do that. We can't even think of it."
"The rent is paid. I've bought furniture."
"Where did you get the money?"
"I used what Grandpa left me."
"I thought you'd pledged the interest on that to the mission."
"I've taken it back. I took it back before I was sick."
She didn't say anything for a long while. She saw suddenly that he was changed, more hardened even than she had feared. He didn't even come to her any longer for advice. He had shut her out altogether. At last she said, "But, Philip, what will people think—when I've a house big enough for you all?"
"I don't care any longer what people think. I can't go through any more scenes like yesterday. Besides, a man has a right to his own house."
"But, Philip . . . my house is your house. I've worked all these years and sacrificed. . . . Oh, you don't know what it's meant sometimes. I wouldn't even let Uncle Elmer help me—so that you'd have the house for your own. It wasn't for myself. . . . I could have got along somehow."
He looked away from her at the mustard-pot in the center of the table. "You know that you can't get on with Naomi—and she hates living in your house."
"I can try . . . we can both try. If only she'd take a little interest and not make the place into a pig-stye."
"You know she won't change."
"Philip, I'll do anything . . . I'll put up with
