I used those arguments, once, myself, but I can't any more.
We'll teach--_our son_--better, won't we, so that he'll have a cleaner
heritage to offer his wife than I've got for mine--but he won't love her
any more. Now, darling, go back to the house, and get some rest, if you
can, but before you go to sleep, pray for me--that when Edith doesn't
need you any more--I may have you for my own. And now, please, leave
me--I've got to be alone--"
"Dat," said a voice out of the darkness, "is just vat she must nod do."
Austin sprang to his feet. It was too dark to see more than a few feet.
But there could be no doubt that the speaker was very near, and the
accent was unmistakable. Austin's voice was heavy with anger.
"_Eavesdropping, Peter_?"
"No--pardon, missus; pardon, Mr. Gray. Frieda is sick. I been lookin'
ev'ywhere for Mr. Gray to tell him. At last I hear him speak out here, I
come to find. Then I overhear--I cannot help it. I try--vat you
say--interrupt--it vas my vish. Beliefe me, please.
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