“I know it, worse luck!”
There was a tingling silence for a moment and then Lena spoke with sudden energy.
“Mother, what can I do? I’m not one of those girls who can go ahead and don’t care. I haven’t been brought up as they have. The only thing you’ve taught me is that my father was a gentleman and that I am a beauty. And what good does that do me?”
“Teachin’ is respectable.”
“I can’t teach. I couldn’t pass a teacher’s examination to save my life. I don’t know how to do anything. And I won’t sink below the level of decent society. I’d starve first. Do you suppose I haven’t thought it all over a hundred times?”
“You can sew very nicely. I’m sure everything you make has real style.”
“Go into a shop at starvation wages to make pretty things for other girls to wear? I stopped along near Madame Cerise’s to-day and looked at some of the girls near the window, with their hair all lanky and their faces sunk in, working for dear life on finery. Mother, is that what you want for me?”
There was hungry appeal in Lena’s voice, that some mothers would have felt; but Mrs. Quincy was not on the lookout for other people’s shades of emotion.
“Well, if you’d any sense you’d take Joe Nolan, as I’ve told you fifty times if I’ve told you once. He’s got real good wages, and you could twist him around your little finger.”
Lena’s teeth came together with a click.