"And now I understand she's going to marry again—and of course I can't give up my son."
"She wants you to, eh?"
Ralph again assented.
Moffatt swung his chair about and leaned back in it, stretching out his plump legs and contemplating the tips of his varnished boots. He hummed a low tune behind inscrutable lips.
"That's what you want the money for?" he finally raised his head to ask.
The word came out of the depths of Ralph's anguish: "Yes."
"And why you want it in such a hurry. I see." Moffatt reverted to the study of his boots. "It's a lot of money."
"Yes. That's the difficulty. And I…she…"
Ralph's tongue was again too thick for his mouth. "I'm afraid she won't wait…or take less…"
Moffatt, abandoning the boots, was scrutinizing him through half-shut lids. "No," he said slowly, "I don't believe Undine Spragg'll take a single cent less."