Jane. I am never sure of anything, Gloria. But Crapsey is in this country now and you may judge for yourself. He wrote me yesterday to say that he was coming to see me on a matter of importance, of the very first importance. I suppose he had reference to John.
Gloria. I should never trust any man, Jane. They give us children and suffering and that is all. Pain has ever been the path of woman.
Jane. They talk a lot about the pain of women, Gloria, but it's not so. Slender waists are still the style.
Gloria. Nevertheless I should investigate for myself.
Jane. And Kathryn—what would you do about her?
Gloria (holding up letter). Kathryn will understand when she has read this. It is from her father and explains everything.
Jane. I am glad that Kathryn's father is a man of letters. Few Englishmen can boast of that. But is Kathryn to become your daughter, or will she remain with me?
Gloria. For twenty years Kathryn has been your daughter. She has been your daughter and nobody else's. Kathryn thinks she is your daughter. She acts like your daughter. (Rises.) And now—when I had expected some vast upheaval of your nature, some evidence of more than a petty affection, you cast her off for a son whom you have scarcely seen. You have no maternal instinct whatever.
Jane. I am sorry, Gloria. But when one puts money into a thing one expects some return—even if it is a son. And I have spent a great deal of dollars on John's education.
Gloria. How mercenary you are! And here Kathryn has barely a stitch on her back. (Enter Dill.)