"Well--he didn't see it. My
father hasn't very much imagination--he couldn't realize the thing in
the same way, because he wasn't in it as I was. He'd seen nobody but
Pilkington, you see."
Something in her face told him that this line of defence was
distasteful to her, that he had no right to make a personal matter of
an abstract question of justice. It was through those personalities
that he had always erred.
"I don't see what that has to do with it," she said.
"He--he thought it was only a question of a bargain between Pilkington
and him."
"What you mean is that he wouldn't admit that I came into it at all?"
She saw that she was putting him to the torture. He could not defend
himself without exposing his father; but she meant that he should
defend himself, that he should if possible stand clear.
"Yes. He hadn't seen you. He wouldn't go back on his bargain, and I
couldn't make him. God knows I tried hard enough!
"Did you think you could do anything by trying?"
"I thought I could do a good deal. I had a hold on him, you see. I
happen to be extremely useful to him in this branch of his business. I
was trained for it; in fact, I'm hopelessly mixed up with it. Well, he
can't do very much without me, and I told him that if he didn't give
up the library I should give him up. It wasn't a nice thing to have to
say to your father--"
"And you said it?" Her face expressed both admiration and a certain
horror.
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