MARY. Don't blame me then, father, if I showed I was your daughter.
OLLIVANT. Let's forget my feeling; but naturally I was set back.
MARY. Because you didn't take my going seriously until I was actually leaving.
OLLIVANT. I couldn't get it into my head then, and I can't now, how any girl would want to leave a home like this, where you have everything. You don't know how lucky you are—or maybe you have realized it. Look about you and see what other girls have. Is it like this? Trees, flowers, and a lake view that's the best in the county. Why, one can breathe here and even taste the air. Every time I come back from a business trip it makes a new man of me. Ask your mother. Eh, Emily? When I sit out there on the porch in the cool evenings it makes me feel at ease with the world to know that the place is mine and that I've raised a family and can take care of them all. Ben had to go, I suppose—it's the way with sons; but I thought you, at least, would stay here, daughter, in this old house where you were born, where I was born, where all your early associations——
MARY. [Shuddering.] I hate associations.
OLLIVANT. [Eying her.] Well, I'd like to know where you get that from. Not from your mother and me. We like them, don't we, Emily? Why, your mother's hardly ever even left here—but you had to up and get out.
MARY. Yes. That's right, father; I had to.
OLLIVANT. [He stops smoking and looks at her sharply.] Had to? Who made you?
MARY. [Reluctantly.] It was something inside me.
OLLIVANT. [In spite of himself.] Tush—that foolishness.