Ursula stood, black and tall, by the desolate hearth. “Uncle Mopius, I don’t want the money, but I’m very sorry not to be able to do as you wish. This is my sole opportunity, my single bit of influence, so to say, in my new position, and I must use it as I think best.”
Tears of spite swam across Mynheer Mopius’s vision. “Ursula,” he said, “you—you idiot, why didn’t you tell me you had political opinions before?”
“I didn’t know you cared—but what difference would that have made?” she answered, innocently.
He caught up his hat with an indignant swoop. “Never again,” he said, “shall you touch a penny of mine. You are ruining my prospects and your own, from sheer caprice. I shall never, now, be a member of Parliament. But I’ll pay you out. And to think that you have done this—you, who are my own sister Mary’s child.”
“Yes,” replied Ursula, grimly. “I always was.”
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE OLD BLOT
“What now?” exclaimed Ursula, still standing where Mopius had left her, by the great unused fireplace. “I cannot even trust Noks, who chatters. Poor father knows nothing about business. I am quite alone.”