"You take her part, do you?" she demanded.
"On this occasion—yes, I do," said the squire.
"And what about me?" said Preston.
Ingleton looked at him—still barring his wife's progress—with a faint, sardonic smile. "Well, she seems to have given you the boot, anyway. If I were in your place, I should—quit."
"She'll repent it!" raved Mrs. Ingleton. "Oh, she will repent it bitterly!"
"Very likely," conceded Ingleton. "But she's kicked over the traces now, and that fact won't pull her up—anyhow, at present,"
Mrs. Ingleton's look held fierce resentment. "Are you going to let her go?" she said.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Seeing I can't help myself, I suppose I shall. There's no sense in making a fuss now. It's done, so you leave her alone!"
Mrs. Ingleton turned upon Preston. "You can bring an action for breach of promise!" she said. "I'll support you."
He made her an ironical bow. "You are more than kind," he said. "But—I think I shall get on better for the future without your support."