OLLIVANT. Come, come, Mary; don't make me lose patience. Put your pride in your pocket. You've had your fling. You've tried and failed. Give it all up and stay home here where you can be comfortable.
MARY. [With intense feeling.] Father, I can't give it up. It doesn't make any difference how they treat me, how many times I get my "notice" and don't even make good according to their standards. I can't give it up. I simply can't. It keeps gnawing inside me and driving me on. It's there—always there, and I know if I keep at work I will succeed. I know it; I know it.
[Mary throws herself into the chair, much stirred. Emily's eyes have eagerly followed her throughout this as though responding sympathetically, but Ollivant has stood in silence, watching her apparently without comprehension.]
OLLIVANT. [Not without kindness.] Something inside. Huh! Have you any clear idea what she's talking about, Emily?
[Mary gives a short, hurt cry and goes quickly to the window, looking out and controlling herself with an effort.]
EMILY. [Softly, as she looks at Mary.] I think I understand.
OLLIVANT. I don't. Something inside. I never had anything like that bothering me. What's it all mean?
EMILY. [Quietly.] So many people use the same words, but cannot understand each other.
OLLIVANT. Well, you seem to think it's mighty important Mary, whatever it is; but it's too much for me. If you had something to show for it I wouldn't mind. But you're just where you started and you might as well give up.
EMILY. George!