"Ah, you'd do that, I don't doubt," he said, with a certain bitterness. He utterly condemned the fat, lazy girl. He would have liked to see her down on her knees scrubbing the boards. He would have enjoyed the chance to punish her for her frivolity, the impertinence, the nonsense, that yet in some unaccountable way attracted him. He looked angrily at her, and Bessie watched him. Perhaps he was going to show the "dangerousness" incident to his time of life at last.
"As you're all going on now, I'm afraid you won't have much money to spend," he contented himself with saying; and then he began on the other subject. "And what about this wretched boy?"
"I'll thank you not to call him a wretched boy to me, Mr. Boult."
"What else is he? He is a wretched boy."
"He is my brother."
"Yah, yah!" said Mr. Boult, unable to find articulate expression for his contempt. "More's the pity for you! Your mother's running her head at buying the young ass off. I've told her I would not give her a farthing for any such purpose."
"Did she ask you for a farthing?"
"All I ever intend to do for Master Bernard I have done. I give you all notice. If you choose to get him home here, to dangle about, eating you women out of house and home, don't look to me to help you."
"Mr. Boult, we are unfortunate, but we aren't quite friendless."
"I'm glad to hear it. It's news."