“I demonstrated to him how little the girl deserved his remembrance or claimed his pity.”
“Exactly.”
“That she had wilfully deserted him to follow a notorious blackguard.”
“Precisely.”
“That certain folk are undeserving of consideration, and that one must set one’s face sternly against impertinent iniquity and gross ingratitude.”
“My dear,” said the vicaress, “you have the spirit of a Solomon. If Zeus Gildersedge left the girl any of his money it would only fall into the hands of that young brute Gabriel Strong. And such a circumstance could only be deplored as the actual subsidizing of immorality.”
Mr. Mince sat up suddenly in his chair, as though the idea had stimulated his spinal marrow.
“Pomponia,” he said, “you are a most intelligent woman; strangely enough, that is the very argument I used to impress my point upon Zeus Gildersedge.”
The vicaress refilled her husband’s cup.
“The old man saw the wisdom of your words?” she asked.