“The boys you brought into this world—your sons!” he burst out. “Why isn’t Carnac working with me? There must have been something damned bad in the bringing up of those boys. I’ve not, got the love of any of you, and I know it. Why should I be thrown over by every one?”
“Every one hasn’t thrown you over. Mr. Tarboe hasn’t. You’ve been in great spirits about him. What’s the matter?”
He waved a hand savagely at her, with an almost insane look in his eyes.
“What’s he to me! He’s a man of business. In a business way I like him, but I want my own flesh and blood by me in my business. I wanted Carnac, and he wouldn’t come—a few weeks only he came. I had Fabian, and he wouldn’t stay. If I’d had a real chance—”
He broke off, with an outward savage protest of his hands, his voice falling.
“If you’d had your chance, you’d have made your own home happy,” she said sadly. “That was your first duty, not your business—your home—your home! You didn’t care about it. There were times when for months you forgot me; and then—then—”
Suddenly a dreadful suspicion seized his brain. His head bent forward, his shoulders thrust out, he stumbled towards her.
“Then—well, what then!” he gasped. “Then—you—forgot—”
She realized she had gone too far, saw the storm in his mind.
“No—no—no, I didn’t forget you, John. Never—but—”