“Of course,” said Easton, “if Slyme comes back he might agree to pay something for its keep.”
Owen flushed.
“I wouldn’t take his money.”
After a long pause Easton continued: “Would you mind asking Mrs Owen to suggest it to Ruth?”
“If you like I’ll get her to suggest it—as a message from you.”
“What I meant,” said Easton hesitatingly, “was that your wife might just suggest it—casual like—and advise her that it would be the best way, and then you could let me know what Ruth said.”
“No,” replied Owen, unable any longer to control his resentment of the other’s manner, “as things stand now, if it were not for the other child, I should advise her to have nothing further to do with you. You seem to think that you are acting a very generous part in being ‘willing’ to have her back, but she’s better off now than she was with you. I see no reason—except for the other child—why she should go back to you. As far as I understand it, you had a good wife and you ill-treated her.”
“I never ill-treated her! I never raised my hand to her—at least only once, and then I didn’t hurt her. Does she say I ill-treated her.”
“Oh no: from what my wife tells me she only blames herself, but I’m drawing my own conclusions. You may not have struck her, but you did worse—you treated her with indifference and exposed her to temptation. What has happened is the natural result of your neglect and want of care for her. The responsibility for what has happened is mainly yours, but apparently you wish to pose now as being very generous and to ‘forgive her’—you’re ‘willing’ to take her back; but it seems to me that it would be more fitting that you should ask her to forgive you.”
Easton made no answer and after a long silence the other continued: