Sue took the glass, and held it before her, gazing sadly at her reflection. "No," she answered. "But I can remember when I was sweet—and young." She laid the mirror down.
Mrs. Milo felt the necessity of toning her remarks. She spoke now with no rancor—but firmly. "Your lack of judgment was excusable then," she declared. "But now—this interest in any and every child—in Farvel, a man younger than yourself—it's silly, Sue. It's disgusting—in an old maid."
"Any and every child," repeated Sue. "Oh, selfish! Selfish! Selfish!"
"No one can accuse me of that! I've been trying to save you from making yourself ridiculous."
"To save me! Why, mother, you can't bear to see me give one hour to those poor, deserted orphans. If I go over to see them, you go along. And how many friends have I? Every thought I have must be for you! you! you!"
"I have exacted the attention that a mother should have."
"And no more? But what about Wallace? Have you exacted the attention from him that you should have? Does he owe you nothing? Why shouldn't he spend what he earns in caring for his mother, instead of spending every penny as he pleases? Is there one set of rules for daughters, and another for sons? Why haven't you tied him up? Are you sure he's capable, when he reaches Peru, of supporting a wife? Or will he simply draw on Mr. Balcome—the way he's lived on me."
"You ought to be ashamed to speak of your brother in such a way!"
"How much more ashamed he ought to be to think that he's deserving of such criticism."
"I can't think what has come over you!"