"Can't you see that you're only saving the farm for Tom?" he argued
wrathfully, bottling his anger as well as he could. "It's nothing to you
and the young ones in any case."

"I know, but all the same it's not right. If it was to buy another farm
it would be different, for you could leave it as you choose. But to
throw away the money on those mines--"

This was a lapse from diplomacy and old Tom resented it.

"Throw the money away!" he shouted, casting all restraint to the winds.
"Who's going to throw the money away? It's like you women. You never can
see beyond the ends of your noses. I'll tell you what I'll do--I'll pay
you out your dower right in hard cash. Will that satisfy you?"

If he died she would have a life interest in one-third of the farm, but
could not, of course, will it to Nance or Bernel. If he sold the farm
and paid her her lawful third in cash, she could do what she chose with
it. It was therefore distinctly to her own interest to fall in with his
plan.

But, dearly as she would have liked to make some provision, however
small, for Nance and Bernel, her whole Sark soul was up in arms against
the idea of selling the farm.

It would feel like a break-up of life. Nothing, she was sure, would ever
be the same again.

"It's not right," she said simply.