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Sinclair, May, 1863-1946

"The Divine Fire"


"Yes. I told him he must choose between me and his bargain."
"That must have been hard."
"He didn't seem to find it so. Anyhow, he hasn't chosen me."
"I meant hard for you to have to say it."
"I assure you it came uncommonly easy at the moment."
"Don't--don't."
"I'm not going to defend him simply because he happens to be my
father. I don't even defend myself."
"You? You didn't know."
"I knew quite enough. I knew he might cheat you without meaning to. I
didn't think he'd do it so soon or so infamously, but, to tell the
truth, I went up to town on purpose to prevent it."
"I know--I know that was what you went for." She seemed to be
answering some incessant voice that accused him, and he perceived that
the precipitancy of his action suggested a very different
interpretation. His position was odious enough in all conscience, but
as yet it had not occurred to him that he could be suspected of
complicity in the actual fraud.
"Why didn't I do something to prevent it before?"
"But--didn't you?"
"I did everything I could. I wrote to my father--if that's anything;
the result, as you see, was a cheque for the two hundred that should
have been three thousand."
"Did it never occur to you to write to anybody else, to Mr. Jewdwine,
for instance?"
She brought out the question shrinkingly, as if urged against her will
by some intolerable compulsion, and he judged that this time they had
touched what was, for her, a vital point.


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