“I don’t know, Sarah. I am more than willing to do my duty by Madeleine’s mother—but, you see how impossible she is. Nothing I say or do pleases her, though I honestly try. Of course, I can’t send her away, nor can I persuade her to go away. But I don’t see how I can live with her. It was easier when Maddy was here, but now—well, I shall do whatever she wants.”
“She wants just to stay here and ballyrag the life out of you,” said Marcia Selden’s sister, with true insight.
“Then she’ll have to do that.”
“And you’ll stand it?”
“It isn’t ‘standing it,’ Sarah. It’s simply doing my duty, as I see it, by my wife’s mother. But I shall most certainly reserve the privilege of going away as frequently as I like, for as long as I like. The house and servants will be at her disposal, but I couldn’t bear to be here all the time.”
“Of course you couldn’t, Andrew. You’re quite justified in going off all you choose. You might take a trip to Europe.”
“I might go to Kamchatka! But I’m not deciding on anything at present. You must know, Sarah, there’s a lot yet to be done in connection with—with Maddy’s death.”
“Oh, that—yes. Of course, that artist person killed her. Can’t they get hold of him?”
“Apparently not.”
“But you don’t have to mix up with it, do you, Andrew? I should think you’d rather never know who did it, than to dig into what may be a horrid—scandal”
“What do you know about Maddy’s secrets, Sarah?”
“Don’t you ask me, Drew. If you want to know anything—go to her friends—they’ll be ready enough to tell you.”
