She went down the stairs, followed by Ma, without knowing what she was doing. She would have liked to find a train on the pavement, a motor, to jump into it, to make off and never see anybody again, after the humiliation which she had undergone before Ma.
She flung herself into the first cab that came along, yelled a direction to the driver: Hyde Park, anywhere! Ma found herself by Lily’s side, without being asked to step in, and she repeated:
“Lily, you ought to have ... Why did you let him treat you like that? Is it true?”
“First of all,” said Lily, suddenly turning and facing her Ma; “first of all, it’s your fault ... yours ... all that’s happened, damn it! If you had been less hard on me, I shouldn’t have gone off with that footy rotter!”
“I’ve often been sorry since,” said Ma. “I’ve been sorry for it. Calm yourself, Lily. And then ... were we so very wrong? Look how your husband has just treated you before me, before your mother!”
“He’s a liar! I swear it!”
“And Jimmy’s thousand marks? What was that money for? Why didn’t you give it back?”
“It’s a lie! It’s a lie!”
“You, who pretended you were making such a lot of money!” continued Ma. “There’s not a word of truth in what you said. You haven’t a penny. I can see it. Oh, you’re the same as ever, my poor Lily—extravagant habits, dresses—and here you are, penniless, left to yourself with your expensive tastes. You’ll die in poverty one day, without a Pa or Ma. Come back to us, Lily.”
“To make nothing? No, thank you!”