"Kitty! Yes, it's Kitty," says she.
"Your own Kitty," Mary says.
"Yes, it's Kitty," mother says, but not as if she cared.
"O mother, do love me," I broke out, feeling so miserable.
"I've got no heart to love anybody," mother says, and she turned off back to her ironing. "He's gone," said she.
"And he loved and forgave Kitty," Mary says, slow and quiet.
"Maybe," mother answered; and she took up her iron, but didn't use it.
"He forgave Kitty," Mary says again.
"Maybe," mother answered short; "but she broke his heart first."
And not one word more would mother say to Mary nor me after that. Mary gave up trying to make her, for the doctor had said she mustn't press matters too far. I went to my room, and felt as if everything was gone, and nothing was left to live for.