Sydney. [Oblivious of it] Take care of yourself! As if everybody didn’t ride rough-shod over you when I’m not there.
Margaret. Yes, but my pet, you musn’t break out like this. Of course your aunt knows you don’t really mean to be rude—
Sydney. I do mean to be rude to her when she’s rude to you.
Margaret. My dear, you quite misunderstand your aunt.
Sydney. Oh, no, I don’t, Mother! [Margaret shrugs her shoulders helplessly and sits down on the sofa to the left of the fireplace.]
Miss Fairfield. [Rising] I’m afraid you’ll have to go to church without me, Margaret. I’m thoroughly upset. You’ve brought up your daughter to ignore me, and I know why. I’m the wrong side of the family. I’m the one person in this house who remembers poor Hilary. I shall read the service in the drawing-room. [She goes out.]
Sydney. [Looking after her] She owes me something. She’s been dying for an excuse, with that cold. [She turns to the sofa and says more gently] What’s the use of crying, Mother? If Gray finds out there’ll be a row, and then Aunt Hester’ll be sorry she ever was born.
Margaret. It isn’t that. You get so excited, Sydney! You remind me—your father was so excitable. I don’t like to see it.
Sydney. I’m not really. I needn’t let myself go if I don’t want to.
Margaret. You musn’t get impatient with your aunt. She can’t get accustomed to the new ways, that’s all. I—I can’t myself, sometimes. [Restlessly] I hope I’m doing right.