"Why? Why?" The girl came forward, spreading her large red hands before her. "Because we've paid all his debts. Because we've saved money and got straight again. Because we're getting to know one or two decent people, and it's taken us fifteen years to do it. Because we're beginning to enjoy ourselves for the first time in all our miserable lives. Because I've set my heart on staying with the Tanquerays, and Fred Tanqueray will be there. Because"—a queer, fierce light came into her eyes—"because I'm happy, and he means to spoil it all, as he spoilt it all before! As if I hadn't suffered enough."
"You? What have you suffered?" Kate's sharp face was red as she bent over a dropped stitch. Her hands trembled. "You were too young to feel anything."
"I wasn't too young to feel that I had a career before me, nor to care when it was knocked on the head. If it hadn't been for him my music wouldn't have come to an end as it did."
"Your music! If it hadn't been for him my engagement wouldn't have been broken off—as it was."
"Oh that? It was the one solitary good day's work Stephen ever did."
The old lady nodded shrewdly over her needles. "Yes, my dear, you might be thankful for that mercy. You couldn't have married Mr. Hooper. I'm afraid he wasn't altogether what he ought to be. You yourself suspected that he drank."
"Like a fish," interposed Minnie.
"I know"—Kate's hands were fumbling violently over her stitch—"but—but I could have reclaimed him."
Her eyes lost their meanness with the little momentary light of illusion.
Minnie laughed aloud. "If that's all you wanted, why didn't you try your hand on Stephen?"