"I think I understand you, Brother Henry. You begin afar off; but I know what you are coming to. You want to bring up that odious Denims again,—a man whom I hate, and whom you yourself would show out of doors, like a vagrant, if it were not for his money!"
The effort exhausted her, and she breathed painfully.
"You think yourself quick. I haven't mentioned Denims. In fact, you have treated him in such a way that I am quite sure he would never trouble himself to be even civil to you again."
"I am glad of it,—the fool!"
"Sister Marcia, I have borne much from your turbulent temper. You are a spoiled child. Fortune has let you have your own way hitherto; so much the worse for you. But circumstances have changed. I can no longer supply you as though you were a duchess. In fact, I don't know what may be before us. I hope no actual want. [Another grip of the pocket-book.] But I advise you to consider whether it is for the interest of a dependent woman to go out of her way to thwart and insult me."
"You would compel me, then, and threaten starvation as the alternative?"
"What odiously blunt language you use!"
"I only translated your roundabout phrases as I understood them."
"You need not be violent."
"You cannot cajole me by soft words, when your purposes are so obvious. You think Denims may save the wreck of your fortune; and you are willing to sacrifice me, if he were ten times the brute he is, to further your ends. But I shall marry Greenleaf."