“And you expect me to do as you wish about things, father,—and some day to live with you again?”
“To be sure,” he repeated.
“And meantime—all this while that I have been away from you—only you, and not Uncle Robert, have been responsible for my keep, and my education, and everything to do with me?”
Churton shuffled on his chair at this, as if he began to see whither Maimie’s “question” was tending. I sat in silent astonishment.
“I don’t suppose your uncle grudged you a shelter while I had no home to offer,” he said.
“I daresay not, father, but that has nothing to do with the question. You have never even given him the choice, whether to say 'yes’ or 'no.’ And it comes to this: if I am really your child, not his, then you and I have been robbing him for three years past.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” he said shortly. “Girls know nothing about such matters.”
“I know that you promised to pay my expenses when I left you to come to Uncle Robert.”
“Well, and haven’t I sent money?”
“Forty or fifty pounds,—for three years’ board and lodging, and nursing through two long illnesses! That—payment!” and her eyes flashed such scorn at the notion that he visibly recoiled.