“That made no difference,” said Christine loftily.
“It was all settled before then, was it?”
“Have I said it was settled, mother? He asked me if I could ever care for him; and I said that I did—a little. Why shouldn't I? He does what I like a man to do. I don't enjoy people who have wills and purposes. It may be very horrid of me, but I wouldn't be in Moya's place for worlds.”
“You poor child! You poor, unhappy child!”
“Why am I unhappy? Has Paul added so much to our income since he left college?”
“Paul does not make money; neither does he selfishly waste it. He has a conscience in his use of what he has.”
“I don't see what conscience has to do with it. When it is gone it's gone.”
“You will learn what conscience has to do with a man's spending if ever you try to make both ends meet with Banks Bowen. I suppose he will go through the form of speaking to me?”
“Mother dear! He has only just spoken to me. How fast you go!”
“Not fast enough to keep up with my children, it seems. Was it you, Christine, who asked them to come here?”