OLLIVANT. [With sincerity.] I don't exactly understand that any more than the feeling you spoke of driving you from home. But I do see what you mean about brothers and sisters. You seem to think boys and girls are the same. But they're not. Men and women are different. You may not know it, but your mother had foolish ideas like you have when I first knew her. She was poor and didn't have a mother to support her, and she had to work for a living. She'd about given up when I met her—trying to work at night to feed herself in the day while studying. But she was sensible; when a good man came along who could support her she married him and settled down. Look how happy she's been here with a home of her own that is a home—with associations and children. Where would she be, struggling to-day trying to paint pictures for a living? Why, there's lots of men who can paint pictures, and too few good wives for hard-working, decent men who want a family—which is God's law. You'll find that out one of these days and you'll give yourself as she did. Some day a man will come and you'll want to marry him. How could you if you keep on with your work, going about the country?
MARY. [Quietly.] You leave mother at times, don't you?
OLLIVANT. I've got to.
MARY. So may I.
OLLIVANT. And the children?
MARY. They'd have a share of my life.
OLLIVANT. A mighty big share if you're human, I tell you. Ask your mother if you think they're easy coming and bringing up.
MARY. And now they've left her. Dear mother, what has she to do?
OLLIVANT. Well, if you ever get a husband with those ideas of yours you'll see what a wife has to do. [He goes to her.] Mary, it isn't easy, all this you've been saying. But your mother and I are left alone, and perhaps we have got different views than you. But if ever you do see it our way, and give up or fail—- well, come back to us, understand?
MARY. [Going to him and kissing him.] I understand how hard it was for you to say that. And remember I may come back a success.