“Why did he come to you about it?”
He looked away from her, fumbling among the letters
on the desk. “Guess he’d tried everybody
else first. He’d go and ring the devil’s
front-door bell if he thought he could get anything
out of him.”
“I suppose he did himself a lot of harm by testifying
in the Ararat investigation?”
“Yes, sir—he’s down and
out this time.”
He uttered the words with a certain satisfaction.
His daughter did not answer, and they sat silent,
facing each other across the littered desk. Under
their brief about Elmer Moffatt currents of rapid intelligence
seemed to be flowing between them. Suddenly Undine
leaned over the desk, her eyes widening trustfully,
and the limpid smile flowing up to them.
“Father, I did what you wanted that one time,
anyhow—won’t you listen to me and
help me out now?”
Undine stood alone on the landing outside her father’s
office.
Only once before had she failed to gain her end with
him—and there was a peculiar irony in the
fact that Moffatt’s intrusion should have brought
before her the providential result of her previous
failure. Not that she confessed to any real resemblance
between the two situations. In the present case
she knew well enough what she wanted, and how to get
it. But the analogy had served her father’s
purpose, and Moffatt’s unlucky entrance had
visibly strengthened his resistance.
The worst of it was that the obstacles in the way
were real enough. Mr. Spragg had not put her
off with vague asseverations—somewhat against
her will he had forced his proofs on her, showing her
how much above his promised allowance he had contributed
in the last three years to the support of her household.
Since she could not accuse herself of extravagance—having
still full faith in her gift of “managing”—she
could only conclude that it was impossible to live
on what her father and Ralph could provide; and this
seemed a practical reason for desiring her freedom.
If she and Ralph parted he would of course return to
his family, and Mr. Spragg would no longer be burdened
with a helpless son-in-law. But even this argument
did not move him. Undine, as soon as she had
risked Van Degen’s name, found herself face to
face with a code of domestic conduct as rigid as its
exponent’s business principles were elastic.
Mr. Spragg did not regard divorce as intrinsically
wrong or even inexpedient; and of its social disadvantages
he had never even heard. Lots of women did it,
as Undine said, and if their reasons were adequate
they were justified. If Ralph Marvell had been
a drunkard or “unfaithful” Mr. Spragg
would have approved Undine’s desire to divorce
him; but that it should be prompted by her inclination
for another man—and a man with a wife of
his own—was as shocking to him as it would
have been to the most uncompromising of the Dagonets
and Marvells. Such things happened, as Mr. Spragg
knew, but they should not happen to any woman of his
name while he had the power to prevent it; and Undine
recognized that for the moment he had that power.
