Page:Frank Owen - Woman Without Love (1949 reprint).djvu/116

 "Tush!" he said. "Don't be melodramatic. You're not acting in 'Macbeth.' Besides what is there to be in such a stew about? Few people living would care to have their family skeletons exposed. And anyway I think judging by the way you are built, you are perfectly safe. No one will ever be able to see your pet skeleton."

"You are exasperating," said she, "but you are nice to have about the house."

"Like a doormat to wipe your feet on," he suggested sarcastically.

"If so," said she, "you'd be put to perfect use."

"And when are you leaving for New York?"

"I didn't say I was going."

"You didn't need to. I know you desire a real home. Not because you are getting old. A woman like you never gets old. But because you are beginning to believe that peace and rest are worthwhile after all. Besides there is Dorothy. Did you ever meet her?"

"Never, I'm sorry to say."

"Well that doesn't matter. She'll be like a daughter to you. I know you like children."

"I wish I did have a daughter of my own."

"Dorothy is your niece and that is the next best thing. Besides you've got to be a mother to her."

"But what am I to do with this house?"

"Sell it."

"Where can I find a buyer?"

"I'm not a magician."

"You are not much of anything," she sniffed.

Ivan smiled as he surveyed her ponderous form. "You on the other hand," he drawled, "are a whole lot of something but I don't know what."

"And you never will," said she. "I'm beyond your intellect."

"If that means what I think it means," he threatened, "you'll hear from my attorneys."

"I probably will," she yawned. "So famous is my resort