Catherine pretended not to notice the humiliating bitterness in his voice.
“It can be managed. I think mother would take Gwen. I’m sure she would take her.”
Murchison smiled the unpleasant, cynical smile of a man unwilling to ask a favor.
“Grandparents are always more merciful to their grandchildren,” he said; “I suppose because there is less responsibility.”
Catherine reached for his hand, and drew it down into her bosom.
“I will write at once, James, if you are willing.”
“I have no right to object.”
“Object!”
“Beggars are not choosers.”
“James, don’t.”