“Nothing! The very first thing is to give up this shameful inheritance, and you refuse to do it.”
“It is for his sake that I refuse.”
Donald turned away from her. There seemed no use in trying to appeal to her sense of right.
“Donald,” she began again, “if you will not let Bobbie have the money, then give it to my mother.”
“No, I won’t do it, and I have told her so. Even your sister, it seems, has decency enough to see that I am right.”
“If Alice had been married eight years, and had a child, she might feel differently.”
“I hope not,” he said, without looking at her.
Edith threw herself disconsolately into a chair. “You make everything so hard—so very hard,” she cried. “Is there nothing I can say that will move you? Is your business in West Virginia nothing to you? Tell me, Donald, are you willing to see that fail?”
He turned on her, indignant. “I did not think you would come here and taunt me with that! Let it fail—a thousand times; let every cent I have in it go, rather than owe its success to him!”
“How can you be so bitter?”