Ellean.
What do you mean by—like you? I don't understand.
Paula.
Love me.
Ellean.
Love is not a feeling that is under one's control. I shall alter as time goes on, perhaps. I didn't begin to love my father deeply till a few months ago, and then I obeyed my mother.
Paula.
Ah, yes, you dream things, don't you—see them in your sleep? You fancy your mother speaks to you?
Ellean.
When you have lost your mother it is a comfort to believe that she is dead only to this life, that she still watches over her child. I do believe that of my mother.