“Exactly. Offer her a good sum on the stipulation that she leaves him and goes away to New York or Europe. Then in the course of time she can write him asking him to grant her a divorce on some such technical grounds as desertion, or incompatibility, or anything else that’s respectable. He’ll have to give it to her. He can’t do anything else. And there you are!”
“What if she refuses?” she said in a low voice, and he saw she was afraid of this refusal which would shatter her last hope.
“Raise your offer,” he answered briskly. “She probably will refuse the first time.”
She pondered, eying the fire with heavy immobility.
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “It sounds reasonable. It’s about the only thing left.”
“If I can be of any assistance to you,” he said, “you just call on me. I’m willing to help in this thing all I can. It goes against me to see Dominick caught in a trap this way just at the beginning of his life.”
“A boy,” said his mother, “that would have made some good girl so happy.”
Cannon rose from his chair.
“That’s just it!” he said, “and there are not so many of ’em round that we can afford to lose one of the best. I’ve always liked Dominick and getting to know him so well up at Antelope I grew downright fond of him. He’s a fine boy.”
He smiled at her with his most genial air, beaming with disinterested affection for Dominick and the desire to be helpful in a grievous strait. Mrs. Ryan looked brighter and more hopeful than she had done at the beginning of the interview.