Mrs. Kaye sank back in her chair, trembling; but still her lips were closed until the angry guest had finished his speech and had walked off some of his excitement in a hasty pacing of the long room. At length he paused before her and said, more quietly:—
"There is no need of our having recourse to legal force. You should leave without being put out. That is why I came, to arrange it all to your satisfaction. You are a good woman, Salome, as good as any of your race before you, and just as big a simpleton when your affections are touched. A little more firmness on your part, a little less devotee sort of worship of a—"
"Archibald, remember thee is speaking of what does not concern thee. There is no need for rudeness, nor, indeed, 'legal' violence. Had I understood, two years ago, that thee needed—needed—this old home for thyself, I would have left it then. It has, of course, been to our advantage to occupy it, but it has also been to thine. An empty house goes swift to ruin. Everything here has been well cared for, as things held in trust should be. We will leave here as soon as I can find a house somewhere to shelter us."
Mrs. Kaye rose, as if to terminate the interview; but Mr. Wingate cleared his throat and lifted his hand as if he had something further to say.
"I suppose you have thought about this many times, Salome. What are your plans?"
"They are not definite. House-hunting is the first, I suppose, since we cannot do without a roof to cover us."
"How—I can't forget that we are kinsfolk, Salome—how do you propose to live? I am a plain business man, as practical as—I mean, use common sense. There are few houses to rent in this out-of-the-way town, where everybody, except the mill folks, owns his own home,—and even some of them do. I've come into possession of a house which might suit you—'Hardscrabble.' I'll let you have it cheap."
"'Hardscrabble'! The 'Spite House'?"
"Yes."