The Girl: You are parrying my question. If I am to be your daughter, there must be no fencing.
The Woman (rising and going over to the portrait again): There are some things that a mother may not tell even to her daughter.
The Girl (determinedly): Grace, you have said too much or too little. I do not love Karloff, I never could love him; but I like him, and liking him, I feel called upon to defend him.
The Woman (surprised into showing her dismay): You defend him? You!
The Girl: And why not? That is what I wish to know: why not?
The Woman: My dear, you do not love him. That is all I wished to know. Karloff is a brilliant, handsome man, a gentleman; his sense of honor, such as it is, would do credit to many another man; but behind all this there is a power which makes him helpless, makes him a puppet, and robs him of certain worthy impulses. I have read somewhere that corporations have no souls; neither have governments. Ask me nothing more, Betty, for I shall answer no more questions.
The Girl: I do not think you are treating me fairly.
The Woman: At this moment I would willingly share with you half of all I possess in the world.
The Girl: But all this mystery!
The Woman: As I have said, some day you will understand. Treat Karloff as you have always treated him, politely and pleasantly. And I beg of you never to repeat our conversation.