MRS. TIMBRELL. I think you had better not stay.
MARY. No, let us go.
LEONARD. I’ve made a mess of it, mother.
MRS. TIMBRELL. Never mind that.
LEONARD. No. That doesn’t matter. But I’ve hurt you. I’ve shaken you. You look pale and queer now. I’ve no reverence. I’m selfish. But I can sympathise. Do you see that? I understand you better than anyone does, mother. I know you better, I like you more. You don’t properly exist without me. Did I say some horrible things about you? I really don’t know what I meant. It was a kind of inspiration. Oh! yes. I know the proper things to say about one’s mother.
MRS. TIMBRELL. But I’m a mother like the rest.
MARY. He doesn’t understand that. He wants to see all sorts of things in you.
MRS. TIMBRELL. We’re just mothers, aren’t we, Mary?
MARY. That’s the best.