"Choose between her and me," she uttered with the touch of melodrama
that few women seem to escape.
"Don't be theatrical," I told her, now more in control of myself. "That
girl makes it possible for me to bring up Laura's children. She is no
more to me than any of the others. But however that may be, she
stays--understand that, please, Gertrude: she stays!"
"Then you've chosen?" she demanded in livid stupefaction.
"I've announced no choice. But the girl stays."
"Thank God!" she lifted her hands upwards, and I hope her prayer was
acceptable. "I knew I was tied to a fool," she added, as though I had
been holding her enchained, "but I did not know he was a knave as well.
I'm free at last!"