"Well, YOU'RE a nice one to ask me that!"
"Why am I a nice one? What have I done now?"
Martha spoke with an effort. "I suppose it doesn't matter; or you think it doesn't matter. I suppose you did what you thought best for me. I'm not judging you, but it would have made things a great deal easier for me if you could have told me the truth."
"The truth about what?"
Martha was annoyed by the question. She hesitated, but decided to go on.
"I can understand you don't want to discuss it; neither would I, but you must have meant to tell me eventually. After all, I have a right to know, mother."
Emily saw she was desperately in earnest. "What are you talking about?" she asked, puzzled.
Martha spoke slowly. "I mean—about my father—about Uncle Jim."
Emily understood then. The shock brought a cry of horror from her. "Oh, Martha!"
Martha knew pain when she heard it.