"In the flat ... alone?"
"Aye. What's to hinder you? That's what your Uncle William that's twice your age would have to do, if you had your way!"
"I don't see that at all. He could easily give Cassie McClurg a few shillings a week to come and look after him while you stay here with us!..."
"I'm not thinking about you or your Uncle William. I'm thinking about Eleanor and the child. I want it to be born at home!"
"Och, what does it matter where it's born," John impatiently demanded, "so long as it is born?"
"You fool!" said Mrs. MacDermott, and there was such scorn in her voice as John had never heard in any voice before. She turned away and would not speak to him again. He lay back against the cushions of the cab and considered Eleanor would certainly be well cared for at home, but ... "what about me?" he asked. He supposed he could manage by himself. Of course, he could. That was not the point that was worrying him. He hated the thought of being separated from Eleanor!...
"No," he said to his mother, "I don't think I can agree to that!"
"It doesn't matter whether you agree to it or not," she replied. "It's what's going to happen!" She turned on him furiously. "Have you no nature or pride? Where else would Eleanor be so well-tended as at home?..."
"It isn't her home," he objected.
"It is her home. She's a MacDermott now, and anyway the child is. You'd keep her here in this Godforsaken town, surrounded by strangers, and no relation of her own to be near her when her trouble comes!... There's times, John, when I wonder are you a man at all? Your mind is so set on yourself that you're like a lump of stone. You and your old books ... as if they matter a tinker's curse to anybody!..."