It’s so much worse for me.
Miss Woodward.
Oh, of course our own troubles are always the worst. That is what has been called “The vanity of grief.”
Mrs. Parbury.
Well, Miss Woodward, I’ll say good-bye. I bear you no ill-will now—really I don’t; and I shall always be glad to hear that you are doing well, although naturally under the circumstances I can hold out no hopes of your coming back here.
Miss Woodward.
[In amazement.] You, Mrs. Parbury, hold out hopes of my returning here! Do you think there is enough money in the Bank of England to induce me to do that?
Mrs. Parbury.
I didn’t mean it unkindly. I was only trying to say a nice womanly thing, and to show you that I didn’t blame you so much for falling in love with my husband.
Miss Woodward.