“No matter what people say and say, underneath there is truth, Aunt Polly, and it’s up to us to find it.”
“And you think you are competent”––Aunt Polly, reflecting that she was using words, used them doubtfully––“you think you are competent to know what is truth and to act upon it––to the extent of sending your husband out of his home?”
If a small love-bird could look and sound fierce it would resemble Aunt Polly at that moment. Mary-Clare turned from the contemplation of the fire and fixed her deep eyes upon the troubled old face.
“You dear!” she whispered and then laughed.
Presently, the fire again holding her, Mary-Clare went on:
“I think I must try to find truth with my woman-brain, Aunt Polly. That was what my doctor-daddy always insisted upon. He wouldn’t even let me take his word when it came to anything that meant a lot to me.”
“He wanted you to marry Larry!”
This was a telling stroke and a long silence followed. Then:
“I wonder, Aunt Polly, I wonder.”