“Except in the trifling matter of ruining his son.”
“And there’s his poor old mother. He’s a good son, at any rate; he’d never hurt her. And I know her. If I left him, she’d never take a penny of my money. What she has of her own is not enough to live on; and how could he provide for her? If I put him out of doors, I should be putting his mother out too.”
“You could arrange that—there are always ways.”
“Not for her! She’s proud. And then she believes in him. Lots of people believe in him, you know. It would kill her if she ever found out.”
Wrayford made an impatient movement. “It will kill you if you stay with him to prevent her finding out.”
She laid her other hand on his. “Not while I have you.”
“Have me? In this way?”
“In any way.”
“My poor girl—poor child!”
“Unless you grow tired—unless your patience gives out.”