“If you’re going to break another vase,” said Ruth, “you will really have to go.”
“Ever since that—that——” cried Bailey. “Ever since Aunt Lora——”
Ruth smiled indulgently.
“That’s more like my little man,” she said. “He knows as well as I do how wrong it is to swear.”
“Be quiet! Ever since Aunt Lora got hold of you, I say, you have become a sort of gramophone, spouting her opinions.”
“But what sensible opinions!”
“It’s got to stop. Aunt Lora! My God! Who is she? Just look at her record. She disgraces the family by marrying a grubby newspaper fellow called Porter. He has the sense to die. I will say that for him. She thrusts herself into public notice by a series of books and speeches on subjects of which a decent woman ought to know nothing. And now she gets hold of you, fills you up with her disgusting nonsense, makes a sort of disciple of you, gives you absurd ideas, poisons your mind, and—er—er——”
“Bailey! This is positive eloquence!”
“It’s got to stop. It’s bad enough in her; but every one knows she is crazy, and makes allowances. But in a young girl like you.”
He choked.