Still Eleanor said nothing.
"And she has had you."
Eleanor made a tiny motion with her hand.
"All my boyhood I starved for learning. When I finished my college course and was about to enter the medical school, I found myself carried away. I had starved myself in other ways. I had known no women. Your mother was very pretty. I blame myself entirely. But she couldn't see any necessity for my going on. She was satisfied with things as they were. I had ambitions; she—" Dr. Green did not finish his sentence, but it was impossible not to know what was in his mind. "I gave her all I had to leave me free to go on, and that, with what she had from her father, was enough for her to live on. She went away. But she didn't tell me about you!" Dr. Green's hands clenched. "We had had hard times, but I didn't deserve that! I found her here by mere chance. She had even taken another name! But I don't wish to cast any blame on her."
"I don't want to hear anything said against her," said Eleanor bluntly.
"I am not going to say anything against her," protested Dr. Green, "except that she has had the easier part."
"I don't see that," said Eleanor. She went rapidly toward the door.
"You will go away from Waltonville?"
"Yes."