"She's the last," interposed Mrs. Stuart, deftly.
"I tell you I've done more than most men. I've paid your old bills, your whole family's, your brothers' in college, to the tune of five thousand a year (worthless scamps!) and put 'em in business. You've had all of 'em at Newport and Paris, let alone their living here off and on nearly twenty years. Now you think I can shell out two hundred thousand and a London house as easily as I'd buy pop-corn."
"It was our understanding." Mrs. Stuart began on her breakfast.
"Not much. I've done better by you than I agreed to, because you've been a good wife to me. I settled a nice little fortune on you independent of your widder's rights or your folks."
"Your daughter will benefit by that," Mrs. Stuart corrected.
"Well, what's that to do with it?" He seemed to lose the scent.
"What was our understanding when I agreed to marry you?"
"I've done more'n I promised, I tell you."
"As you very well know, I married you because my family were in desperate circumstances. Our understanding was that I should be a good wife, and you were to make my family comfortable according to my views. Isn't that right?"
The old man blanched at this businesslike presentation; his voice grew feebler.