“We can’t do anything, father. Give the girl a chance. William says it was an accident.”
“An accident? And your mother saw her flirting with Corwin in the morning!” Mr. Carter could not restrain his ire. “I tell you, Dan, I wouldn’t mind so much if William wasn’t behaving like a lummox. He won’t get a divorce. He told me so this morning.”
“Good Heavens, why should he? It isn’t as bad as that. She’s only a wild girl, and she hates our ways. Why shouldn’t she? We’ve been finding fault with her from the beginning. I don’t see why you spoke of a divorce to William.”
“Why?” Mr. Carter set his teeth. Then, as they got to the corner, he spoke his mind. “I want him to get a divorce, behave like a gentleman, and marry Virginia Denbigh—if she’ll have him.”
“I’m sure Virginia wouldn’t have him, if he got a divorce to ask her,” said Daniel quietly. “She’s not that kind of a woman.”
“She’s in love with him,” replied Mr. Carter; “but I don’t care for that, either, if I can make the fool shake off this—this wildcat!”
Daniel, who had reached Judge Jessup’s door, smiled.
“I’m really sorry for the wildcat,” he said quietly. “She’s alone, and she hasn’t a friend—unless you count Leigh.”
“Leigh’s a ninny!” Mr. Carter retorted, and went on, still storming, to his office.
But by twelve o’clock he had worked some of his temper off. The process of cooling down began and ended, too, in sympathy for William. After all, it was hardest on William. He had been a donkey, but he had—in common with the other Carters—a natural horror of notoriety for his women-folks.