“Haven’t you done enough to make me so?”
“If this business does fail, what then?”
He swept his hand about the room. “This,” he said. “Whatever I have—however little it may be—as long as it is honest.”
She followed his gaze and shivered, as though the place chilled her. “And you expect me to come back to such a life?” she asked bitterly.
“If you come back at all—yes.”
“To cook, and scrub, and scrape, and save, and wear out my life like a servant! Ugh!” She shuddered.
“So it was yourself you were thinking of, after all,” he cried scornfully. “After what you have done, you ought to thank God for the chance.”
She got up and approached him, holding out her hands appealingly. “Oh, Donald—Donald!” she cried. “Please don’t make me do this—please don’t. I can’t stand it—indeed, I can’t.”
“I do not make you do it,” he answered her. “I do not even ask you to do it. You know the conditions under which you can return here. Do as you please.”
“Can’t you show a little generosity? I had hoped to come to you and talk over our affairs in a friendly spirit.”