"Yes, I am prepared to fight with you ... but I'm not going to take risks with the baby!..."

"What's he got to do with it?"

She turned on him angrily. "Are you willing to let him suffer for your books, too? Do you think I'm going to let my child go without things to feed your pride?..."

"He won't have to go without things. I'll earn enough for him and for you."

"Yes, I know. We've seen something of that already. Well, I'm not going back to London, John. I'm simply not going back. You can't expect me to go from this house where I'm happy to that little poky flat in Hampstead and sit there night after night while you are at the office!..."

"Other women do it, don't they?"

"Other women can do what they like. If they're content to live like that, they can, but I'm not content. I don't like that life, and I won't live it. You must make up your mind to that. It isn't necessary for you to go back to the _Sensation_ office--you can stay here and help Uncle William!"

"Become a grocer!..."

"Why not? Isn't it better to be a good grocer than a bad novelist?"

His face flushed and he breathed very heavily. "You're all against me, the whole lot of you. You make little of me. I get no help or encouragement at all. My ma and you and Hinde!..."

"If you were good at that work, you would not need encouragement, would you?"

"I don't need it. I can do without it. I'll prove to you yet that I can write as well as anybody. Never you fear, Eleanor!..."

"I'm not going back to London," she said.

"Well, then, you can stay behind. I'll go back by myself!"

Mrs. MacDermott came into the room. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing," John replied. "I'm going back to London this evening.

Eleanor says she's going to stay here!..."

"For good?"

"Aye ... for good."

"And you? When are you coming back?"

"I'm not coming back. She'll have to come to me. You're always talking about the pride of the MacDermotts. Well, I'll show you some of it.

I'll not put my foot inside this house till Eleanor comes back to me.

It's me that settles where we live ... not her ... not anybody. Do you think I'm going to throw up everything now when I've made a start? I've a new book coming out soon. You know that well ... the whole of you. I know you don't think much of it, Eleanor!..."

"I didn't say that," she interjected.

"But I think a lot of it. I know it's good. I'm sure it's good. And if it does well. I'll be able to leave the _Sensation_ office, and we can live happily together ... but you'll have to come to me. I won't come here to you!..."

He turned to his mother. "Mebbe you're content now," he said. "You've got your way. There's a MacDermott in the house to carry on the business when he's old enough. You'll not need me now!"

He went out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and a little while later, they heard him leaving the house.

"Wait, daughter," said Mrs. MacDermott, taking hold of Eleanor by the hand. "Don't fret yourself, daughter, dear. I lived with his father!..."

"But he always had his own way. You told me so yourself."

"Yes, that's true, but John has some of my blood in him, and my blood clings to its home. Content yourself a wee while!"

V

He met Uncle William crossing the Square, and suddenly he realised how old Uncle William was, and how tired he looked.

"Come a piece of the road with me," he said, putting his arm in his Uncle's. "Eleanor and me have just have a fall-out, and I want to walk my anger off. I'm going back to London to-night!..."

"You're going soon, aren't you?"

"Yes. I had a telegram from the office a while ago. Eleanor doesn't want to go home. She wants to stay here!"

"Aye, she's well content with us!"

"But her place is with me. I'm her husband!..."

"Indeed, you are. A wife's place is with her husband. It's a pity you can't agree to be in the same place!

"Listen, John," he went on, as they came away from the town and strolled along the road leading to the Lough, "there's a thing I'm going to tell you that I've never said to no one before. It's this. The thing that destroyed your father and your Uncle Matthew was their pride in themselves. They never stopped to consider other people. They did what they wanted to do regardless of how it affected their neighbours or their friends. And nothing came out of their work. Your father died and left an angry memory behind him. Your Uncle Matthew died and left nothing but a wrong view of things to you. Your mother ... well, I hardly know what to say about her. She's had much to thole, and it's made her bitter in her mind, and many's a time I think she's demented about the pride of the MacDermotts. I'm proud of my name, too, and proud of the respect we've earned for ourselves, but I'm old and tired, John, and I've nothing to comfort me, and the pride of the MacDermotts gives me little consolation for the things I've missed. I'd give the two eyes out of my head to have a wife like your wife, and a wee child for my own, but I've had to do without the both of them. You see, John, I had to keep the family going when the others failed to support it, I'd be a glad and happy man if I had my wife and my child in the shop!..."

"Do you want me to come home too, then?"

"Every man must do the best for himself, I'm only telling you not to eat up other people's lives when you're holding on to your own opinion.

I daresay you know what's best for yourself, but I wonder whether you'll think that in ten years' time. Or twenty years' time. If you can comfort your mind with the thought that this world is a romance, the way your Uncle Matthew did, then you'll mebbe be content, but I never saw any romance in it, and the only comfort I get from it is the thought that I'm keeping up a good name. The MacDermotts always gave good value for the money. I wouldn't mind if they put that on my gravestone!" He changed his tone abruptly. "Do you think you're a good writer, John?" he asked.

"I don't know, Uncle William. I try hard to believe I am, but I'm not sure. Do you think I am?"

"How can I tell? I've no knowledge of these things, and I can't distinguish between my pride in you and my judgment. I liked your book well enough, but I'm doubtful would I have bothered my head about it if someone else had written it. Is your next book a good one?"

"_I_ think so, but Eleanor doesn't!"

"The position isn't very satisfactory, is it? You're going to leave that young girl for the sake of something that you're uncertain of?"

"I want to prove my worth to her!"

"You mean you want to content yourself. You want to make her think you were right and she was wrong!"

"I have my pride!..."

"Aye, you have your pride, but I'm wondering would you rather have that than Eleanor?"

They sat down on the edge of the Lough and did not speak for a long time. John picked up pebbles and threw them into the water, while his Uncle gazed at the opposite sh.o.r.e. They sat there until it was time to go home to tea.