Here Mrs Thorne sighed deeply, and began to strive to extricate herself from her child’s enlacing arms.
“No, no, no, Hazel; don’t hold me—it is of no use. I can tell, even by the way you touch me, that you have no affection left for your poor suffering mother.”
“How can you say that dear?” said Hazel firmly.
“Nor yet in your words, even. Oh, Hazel, I never thought I should live to be spoken to like this by my own child!”
“My dear mother, I am ready to make any sacrifice for your sake.”
“Then marry Mr Geringer,” said the lady quickly.
“It is impossible.”
“Move from here at once. Take me away to some other place. Let me be where I can meet with some decent neighbours, and not be Chuted to death as I am here.”
Mrs Thorne was so well satisfied with the sound of the new word which she had coined that she repeated it twice with different emphases.
“My dear mother, we have no money; we are in debt and it might be months before I could obtain a fresh engagement. Mother, that too, is impossible.”