"The money is his first aim."
"Mother, if that were true, nothing would ever make me believe it."
"No doubt he is fond of you—in a way.... Enid, I implore you not to harden yourself against me.... Of course he is attracted by you. Who wouldn't be? You are young and charming—with every grace and spell to win men's love. Any man should love you—and other men will.... Be reasonable—be brave. It isn't as if you could possibly feel that this was the last chance—the last offer of love in a woman's life."
"Mother, it must always be the last chance—the only chance, when one has set one's heart on it."
"Set your heart!" cried Mrs. Thompson, vehemently and passionately. "Your heart? You haven't got a heart—or you couldn't, you couldn't make me so miserably unhappy as you are doing now."
"I am very sorry—but I share the unhappiness, don't I? Mother, I, too, am most miserably unhappy."
Mrs. Thompson was pacing to and fro rapidly and excitedly; her bosom heaved, and the words were beginning to pour out with explosive force.
"He is everything then—the sun, moon, and stars to you; and I am a cipher. The mother who bore you counts for less than any Tom, Dick, or Harry who puts his arms round your waist and pulls your silly face towards him."
"Mother!"
"Yes, mother! That's my name still—and you use it from habit. Only the fact—the plain meaning of the word is gone."