“They’re not! You’ve forfeited your right to them. You deserted them. You’ve disgraced them. I won’t ... I won’t let you disturb them!”
Minnie’s fine black eyes stared at her scornfully.
“They’re my children. I’ll do just as I think best about them. I’ve got on very well without consulting you so far, and I shan’t begin now.”
“Chris!” Frances appealed to Mr. Petersen, “Won’t you say something? You know she’s not fit to bring up children.”
“It takes an old maid to do that,” said Minnie.
That roused Mr. Petersen.
“Minnie,” he began, “it would be better—if you would consent....”
“I won’t consent to anything! I want my children, and I will have them. I’m going to take them now.”
“But—I have something to say about it,” he protested.
“You haven’t! Sandra’s not yours, and little Robert’s mine. I asked a lawyer. You’re not my husband. You haven’t any claim on him.”