"Young Posy needn't leave us unless she wants to. I'll keep on James. I'll sweeten his salary again to please you, but our child ain't for the likes of him. He's no class."
Posy interrupted, with a toss of her head.
"James is good enough class for a child of yours."
Quinney curbed an angry retort. His temper was at last under control. He said quietly:
"It comes to this, Posy. You've got to choose between James Miggott and us. Now, not another word. You scoot off to bed. We'll talk of this again to-morrow."
"I shall choose Jim to-morrow."
Then Susan fired the decisive shot. Nobody will ever know whether she meant it. She had been tried too high. Doubtless the spirit of bluff was hovering in the sanctuary, playing pranks now with this victim, and now with that.
"If you drive Posy out of this house, Joe, I shall go with her. If she never returns to it, I shall never return to it."
Quinney wiped his forehead, as he ejaculated:
"The pore soul's gone potty!"