“Madam,” said I, without the slightest heat, “you will kindly make over to me all my money and property which you have got by juggling your accounts. It’s about half a million, I think—Cress and I may presently discover that it is more. But, whatever it is, it must all be made over.”
“I have nothing that belongs to you,” she replied, as calm as I, and facing me steadily.
“We won’t quibble,” said I, determined to keep my temper. “All you have must be made over. I give you until—day after to-morrow morning.”
“I shall answer then as I answer now,” she said—and I saw that she felt cornered and would fight to the last.
“I’ve often heard,” I went on, “that some wives take advantage of their husbands’ carelessness and confidence to—to—I shall not use the proper word—I shall say to reserve from the household and personal allowances by over-charges, by conspiring with tradespeople of all kinds, by making out false bills, by substitution of jewels——”
“That is true enough,” she interrupted. “Women who thought they were marrying men and find they are married to monsters sometimes do imitate their husbands’ methods in a small, feeble way, and for self-defence and for the defence of their children, and I’m one of those women. I’m ashamed of it—you’ve not hardened me beyond shame yet. But in another sense I’m not ashamed of it—I’m——”
“We won’t quarrel,” said I; “I’m not the keeper of your conscience. All I say is—disgorge!”
“I’ve nothing that belongs to you,” she repeated.
“Then you deny that you have sto—” I began.
“I deny nothing. I have learned much from you since you ceased to be a man, but I’ve not yet learned how to educate my conscience into being my pander.”