“Yes. I had to outwit them some way. I was just free and couldn’t choose. They had no right to cut me out.”
“Well, by God, you are a rotter, Rivers.” The lines at which criminals balk are confusing. “And she never guessed?”
“No, she’d never seen Father’s writing in letters.”
Then Maclin’s outraged virtue took a curious turn.
“And you never cared for her after you got her?”
“I might have if she’d been the right sort––but she’s as hard as flint, Maclin. A man can’t stand her sort and keep his own self-respect.”
Maclin indulged in a weak laugh at this and Larry’s face burned.
“I might have gone straight if she’d been square, but she wasn’t. A man can’t put up with her type. And now––well! She ought to pay now.”
Maclin was gripping the loose sheets in his fat, greasy hands.
“Hold on there.” Larry pointed. “You’re getting them creased and dirty!”