The Professors House
“A salesman’s ability!” Mrs. Crane was becoming nasty.
“If you like; but certainly Robert would have been no man to convince manufacturers and machinists, any more than I would. A great deal of money was put into it, too, before any came back; every cent Marsellus had, and all he could borrow. He took heavy chances. Crane and I together could never have raised a hundredth part of the capital that was necessary to get the thing started. Without capital to make it go, Tom’s idea was merely a formula written out on paper. It had lain for two years in your husband’s laboratory, and would have lain there for years more before he or I would have done anything about it.”
Mrs. Crane’s dreary face took on more animation than he had supposed it capable of. “It had lain there because it belonged there, and was made there! My husband was done out of it by an adventurer, and his friendship for you tied his hands. I must say you’ve shown very little consideration for him. You might have warned us never to let those papers go. You see Robert getting weaker all the time and having those terrible operations, and our girls going shabby and teaching in the ward schools, and Rosamond riding about in a limousine and building country houses,—and you do nothing about it. You take your honours—you’ve deserved them, we never forget that—and move into your new house, and you
—138—
