“Why did he come to you about it?”

He looked away from her, fumbling among the letters on the desk.  “Guess he’d tried everybody else first.  He’d go and ring the devil’s front-door bell if he thought he could get anything out of him.”

“I suppose he did himself a lot of harm by testifying in the Ararat investigation?”

“Yes, sir—­he’s down and out this time.”

He uttered the words with a certain satisfaction.  His daughter did not answer, and they sat silent, facing each other across the littered desk.  Under their brief about Elmer Moffatt currents of rapid intelligence seemed to be flowing between them.  Suddenly Undine leaned over the desk, her eyes widening trustfully, and the limpid smile flowing up to them.

“Father, I did what you wanted that one time, anyhow—­won’t you listen to me and help me out now?”

XVIII

Undine stood alone on the landing outside her father’s office.

Only once before had she failed to gain her end with him—­and there was a peculiar irony in the fact that Moffatt’s intrusion should have brought before her the providential result of her previous failure.  Not that she confessed to any real resemblance between the two situations.  In the present case she knew well enough what she wanted, and how to get it.  But the analogy had served her father’s purpose, and Moffatt’s unlucky entrance had visibly strengthened his resistance.

The worst of it was that the obstacles in the way were real enough.  Mr. Spragg had not put her off with vague asseverations—­somewhat against her will he had forced his proofs on her, showing her how much above his promised allowance he had contributed in the last three years to the support of her household.  Since she could not accuse herself of extravagance—­having still full faith in her gift of “managing”—­she could only conclude that it was impossible to live on what her father and Ralph could provide; and this seemed a practical reason for desiring her freedom.  If she and Ralph parted he would of course return to his family, and Mr. Spragg would no longer be burdened with a helpless son-in-law.  But even this argument did not move him.  Undine, as soon as she had risked Van Degen’s name, found herself face to face with a code of domestic conduct as rigid as its exponent’s business principles were elastic.  Mr. Spragg did not regard divorce as intrinsically wrong or even inexpedient; and of its social disadvantages he had never even heard.  Lots of women did it, as Undine said, and if their reasons were adequate they were justified.  If Ralph Marvell had been a drunkard or “unfaithful” Mr. Spragg would have approved Undine’s desire to divorce him; but that it should be prompted by her inclination for another man—­and a man with a wife of his own—­was as shocking to him as it would have been to the most uncompromising of the Dagonets and Marvells.  Such things happened, as Mr. Spragg knew, but they should not happen to any woman of his name while he had the power to prevent it; and Undine recognized that for the moment he had that power.