"I can try to do without Hannah again—"
"That will be hard—on all of us. But I guess you'll have to."
"So it seems."
"But unfortunately that won't he enough."
Edith's face grew tenser:
"I'm afraid it will have to be—just now—I've had about all I can stand for one night!"
"I'm sorry," Deborah answered. For a moment they confronted each other. And Edith's look said to Deborah plainly, "You're spending thousands, thousands, on those tenement children! You can get money enough for them, but you won't raise a hand to help with mine!" And as plainly Deborah answered, "My children are starving, shivering, freezing! What do yours know about being poor?" Two mothers, each with a family, and each one baffled, brought to bay. There was something so insatiable in each angry mother's eyes.
"I think you'd better leave this to me," said Roger very huskily. And both his daughters turned with a start, as though in their bitter absorption they had forgotten his presence there. Both flushed, and now the glances of all three in that room avoided each other. For they felt how sordid it had been. Deborah turned to her sister.
"I'm sorry, Edith," she said again, and this time there were tears in her eyes.
"So am I," said Edith unsteadily, and in a moment she left the room. Deborah stood watching her father.