"Who's going to throw the money away? It's like you women. You never can
see beyond the ends of your noses. I'll tell you what I'll do--I'll pay
you out your dower right in hard cash. Will that satisfy you?"
If he died she would have a life interest in one-third of the farm, but
could not, of course, will it to Nance or Bernel. If he sold the farm
and paid her her lawful third in cash, she could do what she chose with
it. It was therefore distinctly to her own interest to fall in with his
plan.
But, dearly as she would have liked to make some provision, however
small, for Nance and Bernel, her whole Sark soul was up in arms against
the idea of selling the farm.
It would feel like a break-up of life. Nothing, she was sure, would ever
be the same again.
"It's not right," she said simply.
"You're a fool--" and then the look on her quiet face--such a look as
she might have worn if he had struck her--penetrated the storm-cloud of
his anger. He remembered her years of wifely patience and faithful
service, "--a foolish woman. A Sark wife should know which side of her
bread the butter is on.
Pages:
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77