"That is natural to her. And she likes to be on the go. That is natural too."
"Prue! One might almost think you didn't love Bertha."
"Must love be blind? But you don't think so, mother. Bertha is right to work. We have little enough to depend on, in our future. If I could be spared, I would do something too. Perhaps, when Nan is older—"
"Nan is nearly seventeen."
"She isn't grown-up yet."
"And she says she must go out somewhere. We couldn't do without our Prue."
"No—I know—"
"You would never have cared to undergo hospital training, like Bertha."
"Perhaps not." Prue had had her longings, which she had smothered down for Bertha's sake.
She might have to crush them again, for Nan's sake. Not that she had not the first right of choice, but that she could not trust Nan to do her work at home. It was always an understood thing in the household that "Prue couldn't be spared." Other people might please themselves; but not Prue. Usually she acquiesced in this view of affairs, accepting the manner of life appointed to her. Now and then a restless wave would arise, and sometimes the top curled over,—not often in Mrs. Valentine's presence.