“Well. I think we ought to get rid of them.”
“We can’t, with Olivia.”
“There may be letters ordering us to give him up.”
“Then we shall have to cut and run for it.”
“Now why go in for these heroics?”
“Because—I don’t know. When I was a young man I framed a certain scheme of life, I suppose. There it is.”
“We’re only putting off the evil day.”
“Why? What makes you think that?”
“Supposing we do cut and run for it. What are you going to do? How about your merchandise? Where are you going to take them? Olivia must know some day. They can’t go back to England. It’s only merciful to tell her.”
“Who is to tell her? Who is to go to her and say, ‘Olivia, your husband’s a forger.’ It’s impossible, Edward.”