"I fancy," said Bonbright, "that we could face even that—and live."
"More than that. I know I am speaking for your father when I say it. If you persist in this we shall wash our hands of you utterly. You shall be as if you were dead…. Think a moment what that means. You will not have a penny. We shall not give you one penny. You have never worked. And you would find yourself out in the world with a wife to support and no means of supporting her. How long do you suppose she would stay with you?… The moment she found she couldn't get what she had schemed for, you would see the last of her…. Think of all that."
"I've thought of all that—except that Ruth would care for my money. … Yesterday I left the office determined never to go into it again. I made up my mind to look for a job—any job—that would give me a living—and freedom from what Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, means to me. I was ready to do that without Ruth…. But the family has some claims to me. I could see that. So I came back. I was going to tell father I would go ahead and do my best…. But not because I wanted to, nor because I was afraid."
"You see," his mother said, bitingly, "it lasted a whole day with you."
"Mother!"
Bonbright turned to his father. "I am going to marry Ruth. That cannot be changed. Nothing can alter it…. I am ready to come back to the office—and be Bonbright Foote VII… and you can't guess what that means. But I'll do it—because it seems to be the thing I ought to do…. I'll come back if—and only if—you and mother change your minds about Ruth…. She will be my wife as much as mother is your wife, and you must treat her so. She must have your respect. You must receive her as you would receive me… as you would have been glad to receive Hilda Lightener. If you refuse—I'm through with you. I mean it…. You have demanded a promise of me. Now you must give me your promise—to act to Ruth as you should act toward my wife…. Unless you do the office and the family have seen the last of me." He did not speak with heat or in excitement, but very gravely, very determinedly. His father saw the determination, and wavered.
"Georgia," he said, again.
"No," said Mrs. Foote.
"The Family—the business." said Mr. Foote, uncertainly.
"I'd see the business ended and the Family extinct before I would tolerate that girl…. If Bonbright marries her he does it knowing how I feel and how I shall act. She shall never step a foot in this house while I live—nor afterward, if I can prevent it. Nor shall Bonbright."