She took no notice; I don't think she heard.
"You talk about honesty," she went on. "Take it; bare, ugly truth that few people can tell one another with impunity. Whilst I was giving you every thought, you guessed my devotion, accepted it, put it on a mental shelf to leave or to take down and use, according to how life worked out for you...."
"Oh--what injustice!" said his mother again. This time she heard the reproach; all she said was:
"Let me speak, Auntie." Then, to him: "Yes, as things suited you ... you looked on my devotion, my foolish, dumb devotion, as something to fall back upon, if, when the time came for you to marry, you found nobody you liked better. Oh--I knew you so well.... And through you, I know men. I have not watched your face all these years, day by day, meal by meal across this table, in vain. Here, in Ruvno, buried in the country, I have studied life, in your face, through your words, through the change which has come over you when you knew that both Joseph and Roman wanted me."
"But why bring----" began his mother. Vanda silenced her.
"Because we are out for honesty." Then to him: "Why do you come to me now, when I have learned to forget you, to look at you with indifference, killed the love I had for you after many silent struggles? Why do you try to make Joseph so honest to himself when I want him more than anything else in the world? Why do you step in now?"
Her voice broke; she stopped. As for Ian, the scales had at length fallen from his eyes; he saw his past folly clearly enough; and it was too late. In her "now" lay much meaning.
"You're unjust. I'm not so mean as you think ... or so selfish," he said gently.
She wiped her eyes, damp with unshed tears, but said no more. It seemed that her passion had worn itself out in those burning words she flung at him a moment before. Once again she was the quiet, unobtrusive Vanda, who did many things for other people's comfort and did not always get appreciation.
He took up an illustrated paper, turned over its pages without seeing them, furtively glanced at his mother, who gave him a look of deep sympathy, then left the room.