“I'll tell you exactly,” she said, slowly. “At first I thought it was just an infatuation. And—you really are young, Graham, although you look and act like such a man. But I feel, now that time has gone on and you still care about her, that after all, your happiness is all that matters.”
“Mother!”
But she held up her hand.
“Remember, I am only speaking for myself. My dearest wish is to make you happy. You are all I have. But I cannot help you very much. Your father looks at those things differently. He doesn't quite realize that you are grown up, and have a right to decide some things for yourself.”
“He has moved me up, raised my salary.”
“That's different. You're valuable to him, naturally. I don't mean he doesn't love you,” she added hastily, as Graham wheeled and stared at her. “Of course he does, in his own way. It's not my way, but then—I'm only a woman and a mother.”
“You think he'll object?”
“I think he must be handled. If you rush at him, and demand the right to live your own life—”
“It is my life.”
“Precisely. Only he may not see it that way.”