Emilius had gone from the room, leaving the door open. Mary got up and shut it. She stood, hesitating. The helpless sobbing drew her, frightened her, stirred her to exasperation that was helpless too. Her mother had never been more intolerably dear.
She went to her. She put her arm round her.
"Don't, Mamma darling. Why do you let him torture you? He didn't turn Dan out of the office. He let him go because he can't afford to pay him enough."
"I know that as well as you," her mother said surprisingly.
She drew herself from the protecting arm.
"Well, then—But, oh, what a brute he is. What a brute!"
"For shame to talk that way of your father. You've no right. You're the one that always goes scot-free."
And, beginning to cry again, she rose and went out, grasping Mark's sock in her convulsive hand.
"Mary, did you hear your mother say I bullied you?"
Her father had come back into the room.