“Certainly,” she replied.
“Then you must be mad,” was his indignant rejoinder. “Have you considered the scandal this will entail upon us all?”
“Not half such a scandal as that Robert should be murdered and his family permit the crime to go unpunished.”
“I do not think that you have given this matter sufficient consideration. It is for that reason I have come to see you this morning—before you take action which you may have reason to regret later on. I want you to think it over carefully, apart from a mere feminine prejudice against the possibility of a member of the family destroying himself. If you will listen to me I think that I shall be able to convince you that Robert, deplorable though it may seem, did actually commit suicide.”
“What’s the use of going through all this again?” said Mrs. Pendleton wearily. “Robert would not commit suicide.”
“Suicide is always difficult to explain. Nobody can say what impels a man to it.”
“Robert had no reason to put an end to his life. He had everything to live for—everything in front of him.”
“You cannot say that a man bordering on sixty has everything in front of him. I know it’s considered middle-aged in this misguided country, where people will never face the facts of life, but in simple truth Robert had finished with life to all intents and purposes.”
“You won’t say that when you come to sixty yourself, Austin. Robert was a great strong man, with years of activity before him. Besides, people don’t kill themselves because they are growing old.”
“I never suggested it. I was merely pointing out that Robert hadn’t everything in front of him, to use your own phrase.”