I reckon God would enjoy the sight of his getting his deserts." Deep down in Cousin Jimmy, deeper than sentiment, deeper than tradition, deeper even than the solid bedrock of common sense, there was the romantic essence of his soul, which hated baseness with a fiery hatred.
His ruddy face, still boyish in spite of his fifty years, blanched slowly, and there came into his soft dark eyes the look he had worn at Malvern Hill under the fire of the enemy.
At the sight Gabriella thrilled as she did when drums were beating and armies were marching.

"Oh, Cousin Jimmy, don't let her go back!" she cried.
"I can't go back to him now! I can never, never go back to him again!" intoned Jane with passionate energy.
"No, God bless her, she shan't go back," declared Jimmy, as profoundly stirred as Gabriella.
"But the children?
What will become of the children ?" demanded Mrs.
Carr, not of Jimmy, but of the universe.

Her helpless gaze, roving wildly from face to face, and resting nowhere, was like the gaze of a small animal caught in a trap.

"If Jane separates the children from their father what will people think of her ?" she asked, still vainly addressing Heaven.
"As long as she is right it doesn't matter what people think," retorted Gabriella; but her protest, unlike her mother's, was directed to the visible rather than to the invisible powers.

The thought of Jane's children--of the innocent souls so unaware of the awful predicament in which they were placed that their bodies could be devouring bread and damson preserves in the laundry.