"I ask you where my children are?"
"I have sent them away; you may make the most of the information. And when I have remained here as long as I choose, I shall take them with me, and keep them, and bring them up. You can at once decide what sum you will allow me for their education and maintenance: two maids, a tutor, a governess, clothes, toys, and pocket-money. It must be a handsome sum, paid quarterly in advance. And I mean to take a house in London for their accommodation, and shall expect you to pay the rent."
The coolness with which this was delivered turned Val's angry feelings into amusement. He could not help laughing as he looked at her.
"You cannot have my children, Lady Kirton."
"They are Maude's children," snapped the dowager.
"But I presume you admit that they are likewise mine. And I shall certainly not part with them."
"If you oppose me in this, I'll put them into Chancery," cried the dowager. "I am their nearest relative, and have a right to them."
"Nearest relative!" he repeated. "You must have lost your senses. I am their father."
"And have you lived to see thirty, and never learnt that men don't count for anything in the bringing up of infants?" shrilly asked the dowager. "If they had ten fathers, what's that to the Lord Chancellor? No more than ten blocks of wood. What they want is a mother."
"And I have now given them one."