"When do you begin?"
"I'm going over to see about it to-morrow."
"You're not absolutely sure?"
"Yes, I am. I'm going to be sure to-night even if I never get it."
"Now, Jean. You——"
"Don't, mummy, please don't. Don't tell me any more about patience and the right thing coming. I've got to get this or I'll die."
"It takes a lot to kill." Martha spoke quietly, and getting up, went over to the oven.
Jean felt as if a spring inside her had cracked and wondered why it was always so when she tried to talk to her mother. Outwardly Martha Norris was the least emotional person in the world but she managed to extract a lot of it from those near her. The most casual conversation usually ended in a tensity out of all proportion to its importance and left Jean with a sense of the futility of trying to make things different.
It was with a distinct effort that Jean put her arms again about her mother.
"Now, mummy, I am going to get it. What's more, I'm going to move you over to the city, into a place that won't be big enough for you to have any duty to any relative of anybody's. So there. Now kiss me, like a nice, obedient mother should."