Mrs. Foote uttered an exclamation indicative of her disgust.
"Pledged your word!… You're a silly boy, and this girl has schemed to catch you and has caught you…. You don't flatter yourself that she cares for you beyond your money and your position…. Those are the things she had her eye on. Those are what she is trading herself for…. It's scandalous. What does your pledged word count for in a case like this?… Your pledged word to a scheming, plotting, mercenary little wretch!"
"Mother," said Bonbright, in a strained, tense voice, "I don't want to speak to you harshly. I don't want to say anything sharp or unkind to you—but you mustn't repeat that…. You mustn't speak like that about Ruth."
"I shall speak about her as I choose…"
"Georgia!…" said Mr. Foote, warningly.
"If you please, Bonbright." She put him back in his place. "I will settle this matter with our son—NOW."
"It is settled, mother," said Bonbright.
"Suppose you should be insane enough to marry her," said Mrs. Foote. "Do you suppose I should tolerate her? Do you suppose I should admit her to this house? Do you suppose your friends—people of your own class—would receive her—or you?"
"Do you mean, mother," said Bonbright, his voice curiously quiet and calm, "that you would not receive my wife here?"
"Exactly that. And I should make it my business to see that she was received nowhere else…. And what would become of you? Everyone would drop you. Your wife could never take your position, so you would have to descend to her level. Society would have none of you."