“A nurse!” she said. “Why, do you realize that he is keeping three people now on what is starvation for one?”
“Then he's a fool!” Mrs. Boyer rose in majesty. “I'm not going to leave you here.”
“I'm sorry. You must see—”
“I see nothing but a girl deliberately putting herself in a compromising portion and worse.”
“Mrs. Boyer!”
“Get your things on. I guess Dr. Boyer and I can look after you until we can send you home.”
“I am not going home—yet,” said poor Harmony, biting her lip to steady it.
Back and forth waged the battle, Mrs. Boyer assailing, Harmony offering little defense but standing firm on her refusal to go as long as Peter would let her remain.
“It means so much to me,” she ventured, goaded. “And I earn my lodging and board. I work hard and—I make him comfortable. It costs him very little and I give him something in exchange. All men are not alike. If the sort you have known are—are different—”
This was unfortunate. Mrs. Boyer stiffened. She ceased offensive tactics, and retired grimly into the dignity of her high calling of virtuous wife and mother. She washed her hands of Harmony and Peter. She tied on her veil with shaking hands, and prepared to leave Harmony to her fate.