For a long moment there was no sound in the room, except such as came, muted, from out-of-doors, and the leisurely ticking of the tall clock in the corner.
Then Katherine, rising, impetuously faced the lawyer and Madam Crewe.
"I will _not_ answer that question, no matter what issues hang on it," she retorted hotly.
"Miss Crewe, I have your interest at heart, believe me. I strongly advise you to answer."
"I mean no such thing. I mean I refuse to answer."
"You ought to know. The question is--indelicate. When--_if_ Dr. Ballard says he wishes to marry me, it will be time enough for me to answer--_him_."
Miss Crewe started. "What do you mean?" she demanded imperiously.
"Dr. Ballard has already told your grandmother he wishes to marry you. Madam Crewe would like to know your intentions."
"I wish my grandmother had chosen a different way of obtaining my confidence," the girl broke out, almost broke down. "It seems very strange to me that she should choose such a method as this. It seems--almost--disgraceful."
The old woman, sitting erect in her high-backed chair, did not attempt to defend herself.
The lawyer, ignoring Katherine's outburst, continued his dry-voiced interrogation.
"If Dr. Ballard wishes to marry me," the girl answered with marked quiet of voice and manner, in strong contrast to her outbreak of a moment ago, "if Dr. Ballard wishes to marry me--I will marry him."
"I don't _want_ to oppose my grandmother, but if she tries to spoil my life for the sake of a groundless prejudice I will--yes--I will marry him _in opposition_ to her."
"Think well, Miss Crewe. Take your time. Answer cautiously. If you were told Dr. Ballard is a struggling young doctor, with no present means of support, to speak of, and a perfectly problematic future. If you were told that he would never be able to provide you with more than a bare living income----"
"If you were told that, in case you do so, your grandmother would divert her property from you (as she has a perfect legal right to do) and dispose of it elsewhere----?"
It was the old woman who spoke. Her face was as impassive as ever, but Martha Slawson noticed that her tiny, emaciated fingers clutched the arms of her chair with a vise-like grip.