"An attractive woman never gets the worst of it in court," Pell coldly stated. "Suppose we settle that—right here and now. It will give you ready money. And it will save me from having to pay perhaps a greater sum—later. That is...."
Gilbert was incensed. "We don't want your money!" he cried. And Lucia treated the suggestion with the scorn it deserved.
Pell looked at them both. "No? Well, in that case, I suppose there's nothing more to be said."
"And we are free to go?" Lucia cried, unbelieving.
Her husband puffed again. "Why not? I know I shan't stop you." Suddenly he dropped his cigarette, leaned heavily against the table, swayed a bit, and put his hand to his head. The old pain was returning.
"You're suffering?" Lucia asked, alarmed. A strange pallor had come over him.
"I regret—that water—I gave away so liberally," Pell said, his voice weak.
"There's more," Gilbert cried. "I'll get it." He went hurriedly to the kitchen.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Lucia asked, sympathy in her tone. Always with her was the womanly instinct to serve, to help. Morgan was like a wounded animal to her, and as deserving of attention as any hurt thing.