“Because I’d only have done it to see you, and I suppose I have a remnant of pride. If you’d like a better answer, think of what I told you about yourself. I didn’t come because I know you’re stony. I knew you hadn’t changed.”
“About what?”
“About me,” he said, and added: “About anything!”
At this she turned her head and looked at him, for he spoke with a sour significance. “Well, have you changed, Harlan?” she asked gravely.
“About you,” he answered. “I haven’t—unfortunately.”
“But I meant: Have you changed about anything? Aren’t you just what you were five or six years ago, only a little intensified—and richer?”
“Ah, I knew I’d get that,” he said. “I knew it would come before I could be with you long. I told my father and mother the very day my grandmother’s will was read that you’d hate me for it, and mother agreed quickly enough.”
“Why, no,” Martha said, and her surprise was genuine. “Why should I hate you because Mrs. Savage——”
“Because she left it to me and not to Dan, and because I didn’t think it was right or sensible to help him with any of it.”
“But he hasn’t needed any help,” Martha said. “It’s much better for him to be doing it without any help, and so splendidly.”