“Maybe I was wrong––maybe if your mother had lived it would have been different. She would have liked Steve.”
Beatrice played her final weapon against Steve’s reputation in her father’s eyes.
“He is going to marry Miss Faithful. He has loved her for a long time. Now you see what I have endured.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, quite. He admitted it. So did she.” Beatrice knew that Mary’s declaration against ever marrying Steve would have as much effect as to attempt to keep the sun from shining if it so inclined. “I’ve no doubt they will be the model couple of a model village, for if ever there was a reformer it is Steve. He never should have been a rich man.”
“Not at thirty,” his father-in-law championed. “So––it’s the woman who worked for him that won.... I guess it’s the way of things, Bea.”
“You uphold him?” Her temper was rising.
Constantine shook his head, closing the dull eyes. “I’m out of it all,” he excused himself. “There’s a check for you on the table.”
Either pretended or real, he seemed to go to sleep without delay.