"I know you would," said Arthur. "And he knows it too."
"Then, why won't he let me?"
"I suppose because, as you say, he's too proud. But there's something else too, something deeper, I think."
"And what's that, pray?"
"Well, I don't know how to describe it, but it's more than mere pride and perversity. I think it's a kind of return to type. He began life as a workman, and he's gone back to it. It's his way of showing the world he doesn't care what it does to him."
"And what's that but pride?"
"Perhaps so," said Arthur wearily. "I've long ago given up judging my father. I only know that I never thought so well of him as I do now."
"Well done!" cried Mrs. Bundy. "That's what I think too."
"Well, I can't see it," said Bundy. "Tell me again how he's living."
"He's taken a small house at Tottenham, almost a cottage. Grimes gives him two pounds a week. He works from six in the morning till six at night. Next week I'm going to live with him."