JOY. [Bowing her head.] Yes, and—and me. [She covers her face.] I'm—I'm ashamed.
MRS. GWYN. I brought you into the world, and you say that to me? Have I been a bad mother to you?
JOY. [In a smothered voice.] Oh! Mother!
MRS. GWYN. Ashamed? Am I to live all my life like a dead woman because you're ashamed? Am I to live like the dead because you 're a child that knows nothing of life? Listen, Joy, you 'd better understand this once for all. Your Father has no right over me and he knows it. We 've been hateful to each other for years. Can you understand that? Don't cover your face like a child—look at me.
[Joy drops her hands, and lifts her face. MRS. GWYN looks back at her, her lips are quivering; she goes on speaking with stammering rapidity.]
D' you think—because I suffered when you were born and because I 've suffered since with every ache you ever had, that that gives you the right to dictate to me now? [In a dead voice.] I've been unhappy enough and I shall be unhappy enough in the time to come. [Meeting the hard wonder in Joy's face.] Oh! you untouched things, you're as hard and cold as iron!
JOY. I would do anything for you, Mother.
MRS. GWYN. Except—let me live, Joy. That's the only thing you won't do for me, I quite understand.
JOY. Oh! Mother, you don't understand—I want you so; and I seem to be nothing to you now.
MRS. GWYN. Nothing to me? [She smiles.]