He had counted upon her; he perceived now that when he had
thought it was for him alone to decide, he had counted upon
her just spirit to stay his own in its struggle to be just.
He had not forgotten how she held out against him only
a little while ago, when he asked her whether he might
not rightfully sell in some such contingency as this;
and it was not now that she said or even looked anything
in favour of Rogers, but that she was silent against him,
which dismayed Lapham. He swallowed the lump that rose
in his throat, the self-pity, the pity for her, the despair,
and said gently, "I guess you better go to bed, Persis.
It's pretty late."
She turned towards the door, when Rogers said, with the
obvious intention of detaining her through her curiosity--
"But I let that pass. And I don't ask now that you
should sell to these men."
Mrs. Lapham paused, irresolute.
"What are you making this bother for, then?" demanded Lapham.
"What DO you want?"
"What I've been telling your wife here. I want you should sell
to me. I don't say what I'm going to do with the property,
and you will not have an iota of responsibility, whatever happens."
Lapham was staggered, and he saw his wife's face light
up with eager question.
"I want that property," continued Rogers, "and I've got
the money to buy it.
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