“Oh, not much, not so much as you think!” Ma hastened to say, thinking she saw a spiteful allusion in Lily’s remark.
“Yes, all right, I know,” said Lily. “Never mind about that. It’s my turn to make money now, for myself.”
“Still that independent spirit! We haven’t got her yet!” thought Ma.
And she went on talking of the troupe, of the cousin who played the star.
“Pooh!” said Lily. “A nice sort of star!”
“It’s not every one who can star in Berlin by herself, like you,” said Ma. “Do you know, Lily, you ought to stay with us: we should get on so well together. You would manage the troupe; and, one day—who knows?—you might make a nice marriage.”
“But I am married, Ma! I didn’t live with him! Do you mean to say you think ...? Not I!”
“I know you’re married, but you can get a divorce. Jimmy used to make love to you; now there’s a man who ...”
“And you used to say he was a drunkard, Ma!”
“Never!” said Ma, rising to leave.