I haven't got a dollar to fight back with."
"Well, you ain't got to fight. Your decree gave him to you, didn't it?
Why don't you send right over and get him? That's what I'd do if I was
you."
Undine looked up. "But I'm awfully poor; I can't afford to have him
here."
"You couldn't, up to now; but now you're going to get married. You're
going to be able to give him a home and a father's care--and the
foreign languages. That's what I'd say if I was you...His father takes
considerable stock in him, don't he?"
She coloured, a denial on her lips; but she could not shape it. "We're
both awfully fond of him, of course... His father'd never give him up!"
"Just so." Moffatt's face had grown as sharp as glass. "You've got the
Marvells running. All you've got to do's to sit tight and wait for their
cheque." He dropped back to his equestrian seat on the lyre-backed
chair.
Undine stood up and moved uneasily toward the window. She seemed to
see her little boy as though he were in the room with her; she did not
understand how she could have lived so long without him...She stood for
a long time without speaking, feeling behind her the concentrated irony
of Moffatt's gaze.
"You couldn't lend me the money--manage to borrow it for me, I mean?"
she finally turned back to ask. He laughed. "If I could manage to borrow
any money at this particular minute--well, I'd have to lend every
dollar of it to Elmer Moffatt, Esquire.
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