“Well, my dear, under present circumstances, I think myself justified in waiving that consideration. Bless me—there’s the luncheon bell. After all, there is nine months for you to consider your conduct in.”
Chapter Eighteen.
Of Age.
Canon Kingsworth held a long conversation on the same day with Katharine’s mother, in which he endeavoured to win her to his view of the division,—to which she was greatly averse.
“There is no difference in principle,” she said, “between the whole or part. None of it should be Kate’s.”
“Is not your object to heal an old sore,—to make an old wrong right? and will that be so well done by putting Emberance into a place which she on her side could never feel to be indubitably her own,—as by this arrangement which will give her all she needs without imposing on her an intolerable sense of obligation?”
“Oh, let us once be free, and I do not care what she feels about it,” said Mrs Kingsworth vehemently.
“But, apparently, Katharine does.”