Jethro’s light eyes opened. They looked to her like filings of steel in the uncertain light. His voice came through the twilight suspiciously.
“Why does he talk like that? He is your brother, isn’t he? I want my wife’s brother to have the run of my house whenever he’s in the neighborhood.”
“He is afraid that he has trespassed on your hospitality too long.” How parrot-like her voice was, how stilted her words! She burst out feverishly:
“Give him the two hundred pounds—if you love me. Let him go at once. If he delays he may lose his chance. I don’t understand business, but he will explain it to you; it is something that will not wait.”
“He could come back for the wedding.”
“We shouldn’t want him; we could manage without him, I mean. He would not be able to get away; business—a new business would be too engrossing.”
“Two hundred pounds is a good lump.”
“But to set him up in life—to get rid of him.”
“You don’t want to get rid of your own flesh and blood, surely! There’s no hurry. Wait until after the wedding. It’s in August—just six weeks.”
He got up, bent over the high chair in his clumsy, hearty fashion, and kissed her mouth. That kiss decided her, made her inflexible. She gulped down a little scornful laugh in her throat: a man who kissed in that way deserved to be jilted.